The orange-tinted frames
rest on her freckled nose
turning her eyes to droop down
till my finger, on the right hand
shows a letter written 25 years back,
the pink sky spreads on the faded
black – cloth worn by me yesterday,
petals imprinted in her canvas
reflect the beaded necklaces she wore
her hair loiters down till the tiles
when the shoes step on a single strand
of black beauties sensible to fall,
she sits and stands down the stairs
to a doorway opening to the starry sky
where a single sphere emits the light
revealing her aura and snowy skin,
her hands sway the threaded nets away
showing a more clean bricked wall
mortared with the beaming sand
taken from the hearts of the ocean,
her beauty lies in herself ,
where does your beauty lie ?