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The Stolen Fate

Never should nature draw such a form again

Like the flush of the beauty in her cheeks.

Her soul is ready and anxious to par

Where her honesty lies and has no false promises.

She has wisdom numbered to pebbles in the river-bed

Always repaid after every seasonal change.

Dollars are in plenty in her rabbit pouch.


Dabbed exquisitely in the perfume of Persia

Her heart that is lighter than the hummingbird’s

Is truly radiant with the glow of warm love.

Her breath is sweeter than the wild honeycomb

Seemingly is the smile – a balm to the depressed souls.

But when she moves her lips the words are frozen

Then her soft and melting eyes grow hard and vacant.


She veils herself away from the cautious glares

Having nothing to plead for her ignoring attitude.

She clasps her fingers and raises her palms towards Heaven.

Her countenance expresses – a vague, vain expectation.

Life in her has rolled rapidly to the ebbed and the eddies.

She is a damsel born with a stolen fate

That you could never expect is dumb.


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