SHE

Ujjal Mandal, India

On a spring morning the sweet 

smell of newly clad blossoms 

coated with dew and honey, 

I saw a maiden tugging

a ivory comb through her long

and smooth tresses

beneath a tree;

I approached to her.

Oh, she was more florescent than the moon

of the night,

Flowers stoop to her beauty,

such beauty I never have seen nor

I felt before,

I agree to gobble up the poison 

of her charm and daintiness.