Thursday, January 10, 2008


A distant mistral grazes past
The pearl of water trickles slow
In the light beam it glitters
As it drops past the brow.

She eclipses the sunlight
And a diamond ring forms
Around that graceful waist
The coy pearl still trickling
Meets the grace
As beauties pitted against

Let me be that drop
Let me be that sunlight
Let me be the air
Around that beauty fair.


Shal said...

beauty is the word !!


Assman said...

Aaah!...the good old Indian dream!!