Her Hair

Those black tresses
flowing freely
bobbing on your shoulders
like a rill
flowing through the rift of a hill

And the fragrance it left behind
like some mist traversing
through a lavender flowery bed
and between the curls
and the ringlets
holding firmly
is your divine smile
appeared like a magic
like some angle floating down
through the rims of the clouds
holding many mysteries
within those eyes
in the stealth of your desirous locks

Copyright Β© Shantanu Baruah

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