There's this supercute girl here,
From Jammu the Sikhni hails,
I feel so lucky that I get to see her,
At times I follow her scent trails.
Made of sheer pure beauty she is,
I go ooh la la when she comes,
Both my feet just freeze altogether,
Frozen & I find my senses lost.
Harps play when she speaks,
So beautiful is her voice,
Her lips separate like cuckoo beaks,
Alive I feel staring into her eyes.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
There's this supercute girl here,
From Jammu the Sikhni hails,
I feel so lucky that I get to see her,
At times I follow her scent trails.
Made of sheer pure beauty she is,
I go ooh la la when she comes,
Both my feet just freeze altogether,
Frozen & I find my senses lost.
Harps play when she speaks,
So beautiful is her voice,
Her lips separate like cuckoo beaks,
Alive I feel staring into her eyes.
Well yeah, girls sure are sometimes so beautiful & cute.
I have complimented her, but nothing more than that.
Nothing serious to be derived from this poem as it's just an unsung tribute.
My HP Poem #1031
©Atul Kaushal
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