Ink-Stained Affection

She Walks in Beauty

As if in gait of a summer fawn, she treads a gentle way,
Each step a link in a delicate chain, like ants in rhythmic array. 
In quiet realms where moonlight glows, and fireflies flicker bright,
In her eyes, a sleepy spell breaks through the silent night. 
Her fragrance, like jasmine of endless eves, perfumed and rare,
In caged heartbeats, my soul sways to her beauty beyond compare. 
By twilight's lamp, like a tender star, a jasmine in evening's embrace,
She dances through, like a dragonfly's spell in light's enchanted grace. 

In a babul nest on a river's bank, she dwells by waters deep,
I gaze at her with eyes entranced, in wonder as I keep. 
She sings like the sparrow, like the cuckoo in trees,
She offers a fragrance as soft as night-bloomed jasmine breeze. 
Through bowers she roams, as honeyed scents fill air,
As mountains kiss clouds, her beauty lingers fair. 
She's the mystic charm of champa and chamele in full bloom,
She's a sweet sorrow, a night bathed in silver moon. 

Her laughter's free as streams' flow wide, waves wild with mirth,
She is the drifting petals on ponds, a swan in radiant birth. 
In autumn clouds, she glides along like a boat with sails unfurled,
The tinkling anklet's joyful tune, the glass bangles, colors swirled. 
She's the rainy day's tale, in a dusk of lovely sound,
Her dawn is in the garden, where new buds all abound. 
Her gaze is soft, her spell returns under starlit, moonlit sky,
I wonder and ask her, time and again: who are you, my mystery, who are you?