Saturday, 6 October 2012


The Sparkling glass
encircling my wrist.
Breath life and 
quivers with charm,
Dispelling darkness,
they enlighten a mist.
In silence they dangle, 
at the mouth of my arm.

Exuberant shades,
striking the vitals of my wall.
Cements a devoted bond,
with my femininity.
The tantalizing tingles,
nurture a call.
Proclaiming this to be
my indispensable amenity.

The magical tone ,
magnetizing my mate
Is the ethical language,
of my Ineffable mind.
Being beautiful, 
is her only trait.
Ornate without her 
is surely pined.

Illuminating a sheen
with vanishing forms,
I heard her tingles
rendering a shadow.
I muse however,
If it is her norm,
To shower, 
Mystical myrtles,
over a meadow.

How I wonder,
Does she spangle?
Yes, she does all.
Does she dangle?
No ,she dances!!!

Preeti Venkateshan