Maya
Dappled in purple
shade of her gown
She walks down
the little town
Gracefully
yet with admiration;
Flowers in
the garden and
Blades of
grass in the field dance to her steps,
Waving in
the zephyr that blows
The locks of
her hair;
Juvenile
blood rushes in veins
Stares at
her arched waist going deep down
Hiding all its
treasures,
Promises a
man all its pleasures in proximity
That remains
a curiosity;
For a moment
she stops—
Standing
there she looks at someone
Must be the
blessed one
A smile
flashes with no reason
Greets life
in all its seasons
Flames of
passion bubbling in the hearts
Interrupts
time to pass
A smile that
she flaunts
Makes the
barbet in the branch to taunt
She looks
above the tree
Sees the
bird to flee
And walks down
slowly.
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