A nice mess.
Grandeur at its finest, shining bright under the moonlight;
Easily swaying, beauty such she is:
A nice mess. Hair flowing in the fine wind,
Each funded by the scent of the flowers.

Now I sleep under the same tree from where I saw this scene,
And I wonder when I will see this maiden again.
And I can hardly forget the view. Elegant, Ecstatic, Romantic.

Gazing into the sky, again like everyday;
I notice that silhouette again.
I run, run towards it, and as the silhouette grew bigger, my heart beat faster.
And there I saw:
The maiden I was waiting for. With such beautiful eyes, instantly captivating me on the move.

"It's cold, isn't it?" she asked, soflty smiling at me.
"Yes" I said.

And that's the last I ever saw of her.



© Jeevan