The curl of the hair
on the maiden fair
vowed her bother at every touch
wouldn't rest at her retouch
Her charming eyes
and matchless sighs
it laid itself on her docile lid
did not seem she could get rid
Then it fell on cheeks no care
in the dimples depths oh so rare
quite stubborn it stood midway
stayed on till she smiled it away
When crazy curls you cannot cajole
come draping the face of an honest soul
the mind it travels to Elysian land
strings of pearls on a strain of sand
This one is in love of my sister's beautiful curly hair :D :D
Gargi
1 comment:
thank you :)
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