She hides her 'red ' among the roses,
You won't know, unless,
She presents you the bouquet,
O! Can you smell it?
She hides her age among the trees,
You wouldn't know, unless,
You read little green,
you think they are just poetry?
She doesn't need any ink,
Her blues are enough,
To create another masterpiece,
Without sword, like a true warrior..
Her open heart window panes,
are still searching,
A forgotten smudge of handprint..
Let's swoop in, stepping on toes,
Before it closes,
O! her winsome world is so alluring...
_____________
