She will arrive one day in a gesture of love,
gentle as a dawn  dew, cool like a light rain,
The rays of the sun will be on your cheeks,
The whirr of the breeze in her tone of talk,
in a elegant  pose with a hill-flower elegance.
She will appear, with slim, open arms,
A bearing of the head no sculptor has caught
And nuance bearing with eyes and lips,,
Her face in a pass-and-reposes of moods
As many as skies in a fragile change
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI