The impresario set the stage,
The oboe was shined to glean,
The percussionist checked their cymbals,
The libretto was tested for its sheen.
And in that musical affair,
Where everything was set for perfection,
The rough edges she possessed,
Clung to my soul,
And in that pristine symphony,
I found her to be the only attraction.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah