She is a leaf fluttering through a storm

Her skin loves her collarbones; cut out from wooden board

With a beautiful mind

That springs and straddles

Out of its Head-shell

To say the unsaid 

That lurks in a glance, a touch, a sigh

But blushes and rolls in 

As shy silkworm. 

Her mind is scribbling

a million embryos of dribbling words 

Conjoined, bent, broken

While finding connotations from lexicon.

The remnants of unsaid things

are hung as coiled enunciations 

They linger and huddle 

While pushed and strolled 

And bent yet juggle;

As more of them emanate as waves 

Echoing in space.

She spins a web of darkness

While unfurling her threads

Through spindle of her embroidered soul.

I see her shadow 

Stoops to pick up

The fallen verses 

From plaits of her ironed skirt

From eyes, they shed as river of memories

When throat finds words of memory lane

Brimming her soft shadow 

In sun of its wintery glow.