Half smile,
The rare dimple in perfect
Pleasure to the eyes,
But never outlandish laughter.
( Like a woman who knows she has
You in her trance)

   Hip bent to one side,
Arm defiantly attached to bent hip,
Her dress of flowers flow like
A mobile garden,
The air seems to glide around every
Curve and dress wears her well.

The eyes of men
Become magnetised,
Through which the world
Is observing her magnetic frame
The smile piercingly gradual,
Yet playful, still a touch of vulgarity.

Woman, whose smile
Beckons a portrait,
You walk with depths
Unknown, but the abyss
Of your smile
And the eyes jumping in.