A gentle breeze precedes her arrival
carrying with it
a carpet of Gul Mohur blossoms
lying in the dust
their brief moment of glory – spent.

The skirt, all of red
twirls around those tapering legs
exposing for a split second or two
their exquisite whiteness.

Arched eyebrows, sculpted countenance
ivory smooth neck, wispy tendrils clinging like sin
voluptuous lips- crimson in colour
an invitation for… what else?

Insolent, insipid look
perhaps… a bit too rehearsed
as if I was some kind of an outcast.

Those lips fluttered
at least I thought they did
shadows, or what remains of a smile…
lingers.