The Fair Maid’s Passing Glance
Amid the noisy fair of earthly cheer,
Where traders shouted loud like thunder thrown,
Where silks and spices shimmered far and near,
And every breeze told tales the summer’d known—
There moved a maid, more radiant than the day,
Whose quiet grace made even chaos still;
The finest goods seemed dull along her way,
For none could match the charm she bore at will.
The goldsmith’s chains, though shaped with master’s care,
Could never shine as softly as her face;
The merchant’s jewels, rare beyond compare,
Turned pale beside her unassuming grace.
Her eyes—two lanterns sparked by heaven’s fire—
Held such warm wonder time forgot to flow;
And in my chest stirred something like desire,
A tender ache I’d thought I'd ceased to know.
But then the crowd—a restless, shifting sea—
Closed in around her and she slipped from sight;
And though she left no trace for eyes to see,
Her presence lingered, gentle as the night.
For in that passing glance, so brief, so rare,
She lit a spark no shadows can dispel;
And ever since, my heart, though wandering where,
Still guards her glow—the spark she left to dwell.
Copyright © Aakriti Chhetri | Year Posted 2025
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