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Jun 2014
She mulls over a multitude of dresses,
While she curls up her auburn tresses.
Into a heap of satin she'll wriggle,
Tossing the attires with a nervous giggle.


Every gown whether satin or lace,
Does not seem to bring out her face.
With brash impertinence the gown would divulge,
Her every flaccid protruding bulge.


The corset with all it's tightening,
Wasn't portraying her as placid and mellow,
Her teeth despite the whitening,
Seemed stained and yellow.


But the woman failed to realize,
That her beauty dwells in her eyes,
It escaped her mind ,
that she was one of a kind.


While women eyed her with envy,
Men awed her comely grace,
Her mind was clogged with a daunting frenzy,
That settled upon her pretty face.


Not once did she look up and observe,
The glances aimed at her with animated verve,
She was down with the spreading bout
Of venomous self doubt.


An untoward imbecile,
With no particular talent or skill,
Showered her with a word of praise,
Causing the heart to notch up its pace.


She longed for his fervent gaze,
A gratifying praise,
She needed him to validate her worth,
Only then would she be filled with mirth.  


She had herself to blame,
This pigeon headed dame,
Who was so blind to see,
That she was as beautiful as beauty can be.


To all the lovely women I know,
Keep in mind that men come and go.
Let not their vileness blind you from seeing,
How gifted you are you terrific human being.
Neha D
Written by
Neha D  Mumbai
(Mumbai)   
693
 
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