Saturday, January 16, 2016


Life, she draws with a deft and careful hand;
In slow measures, planning out minute details,
The tiniest bit in its place, never a line random,
A devotion that brought to fruition a first love.  

She chooses her words with much precision,
She measures out words, deeds and memories,
In her hands, the wheat and the chaff separate,
In her mouth, the words come out in harmony.

From the dark kajal that she draws on her eyes
From the neat drapes of her elegant clothing,
From a hand that never has to strike out words
She is a perfect artist in whatever she touches.

What makes her so is getting what she wants;
Her artistry is of keeping careful what she gets.

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