By Tushar Jaju
Brighter than the Milky Way that shines,
Slighter than the intoxicating touches of wines,
Her tresses flowing like the smoothest of vines-
I can’t believe the sight seen by these eyes of mine.
For even the angels must have been jealous of her...
The gods made her such.
Stormy like the winds captured by a ship’s sails,
After her, following the vision, everyone trails.
I hope that one day she finds my love in her mails,
As I write about how in front of her even the moon pales.
For even nature wishes it were as enrapturing as her...
The gods made her such.
At times I think that she is nothing but a ruse-
Bright and beautiful beyond compare, but short on fuse.
I pen this with inks that are red, and the sunset she views,
With a foolish hope that one day, it be me she does choose.
For even my meaningless life may become colorful at such a news...
The gods made her such.