She said, she would miss me
And also she said,
The chance was so dismal,
Could not be offset.
With all odds against it
And so much at stake,
The was no exemption
From rules of the fate.
There was no exception
The chance was so thin,
And building was pressure
Without and within.
And growing was tension,
For one thing she knew —
There was no dimension
That could be reviewed.
And nothing was there
To start from the scratch.
And life was not fair,
But it had a catch.
She said, she would miss me
And also she said…
Her words were explicit,
She knew what she meant.

She is a queen of tight dress,
She is a little queen.
She is a queen or goddess.
Sincere, eager, keen.
So much involved and gentle,
With style, yet to be seen.
Attractive, cute and splendid,
She is a little queen.
At ease she is with color
And mixes it with skill,
Unprecedented talent,
She is a real steal.
The one a lot are after,
The way one never knew.
For only she can craft it,
With every shade and  hue.
And scale is so much vaster,
Each time she has a go.
And everything she masters
Defined to shine and glow.
And everything she touches
Consigned to be an art.
She is a queen or duchess,
So good, so bright, so smart.
She is a queen of short dress,
It all stems from within.
And everyone surrenders
No matter what’s the scene.

Again she’s wearing lovely dress,
No matter what’s the label.
Her ways can everyone impress,
She leans against the table.
Her hands are trembling a lot,
Her voice betrays a little.
But, nonetheless, she wouldn’t stop,
She wouldn’t want to quit it.
She knows the game and plays it fine,
A breach is not allowed.
Distracted though with every line,
Goes on to read aloud.
And as she reads, the story goes,
And more she grows excited.
There is the truth, she only knows,
But know, she does exactly.
Her every breath and word alike
All bring it so much closer.
Could not resist it, couldn’t fight.
With pleasure eyes are closing.
She’is pulled apart for quite a bit,
As culmination nears.
That depth she’s never had, indeed,
Her eyes are wet with tears.
She’s almost there, wants to get
That special thing she’s after.
As there is nothing to regret,
Her voice explodes with laughter…
Again she has that lovely dress,
One couldn’t see the label.
Her style can everyone impress,
She leans against the table.

The scent, the feel, the touch-
No chance to wait that much.
Sincere, deep and strong-
No way to wait that long.
No need to be explained-
It’s all in blood and vein.
Much more than words can tell-
The charm and magic spell.
So pure and divine-
It couldn’t be confined
To scope of time and space,
The beauty, trait and grace.
As though has always been
Acute, astute and keen.
The sense, the look, the feel,
At times it seems unreal,
But glance of smoky eyes
Resembles paradise.
And somewhere deep inside
I know — this is my ride!

Sine cura animarum,
There’s no care, no concern
For the soul, would like to bar them
To the point of no return.
Always comes with certain easiness,
There’s not much that can be done.
They inherit it like business,
From the father to the son.
Deeply rooted in their being,
Rich in dosh, in spirit poor,
That is how they are used to living-
Careless always — sine cura.
Everything they can surmount,
New ideas always flash-
Is the profit all that counts,
Worshiped always is the cash.
World renowned is their direction:
Less to give and much to take.
By the luck and through connections,
There is always much at stake.
Though in luxury they dabble,
Think they are Allmighty God,
Certainly are plebs and rabble,
Destined to decay and rot.

Over the ocean, where you dwell,
Ugly the house is not.
Sad over blue dress you are and, as well,
Missing its small polka dots.
Something so special in past like a trap,
Though is confined to oblivion.
Sandals high heeled with a white leather strap,
Something you’ll learn with to live on.
Still in the centre the house, remains
Warm fire place in the hall.
Place where people had smile on their face,
And you were having a ball.
Memories flash some and come back again,
Touching yourself like a breeze.
Place where you’ve never had sorrow or pain,
Waiting for you willow trees.
Over the ocean, where you dwell,
Nice little house you’ve got.
Sad over blue dress you are and, as well,
Missing its small polka dots.