The nightingale
hums sweet tunes
The wind dances in rhythmic plumes
A maiden
looks out her window
Holding tight her heavy locks.
But,
he knew no courtesies
His rash ecstasy
Strewing many an unspoken feeling,
Ushers her
Into the ball
And with bedimmed eyes
she sees it all
How, she twirls
behind the veil
For her triumphant knight
Her bosom –
a tempest of emotions
Yet a frozen speaker
A heart not in armour
takes him yonder
Leaving her forlorn…
To gather those words
Ever inanimate