In a less crowded metro, I happened to look at her sitting at right most of the seat.
Lost in thoughts.
Her eyes were like the lost pearls drowned in the tear of oceans,
And the black of her eyes reflected a star-less night.
Her cheeks were like the pink petals of rose with a dew over it,
Gradually falling, leaving the trails of the past.
And her lips compliments her cheeks.
Maybe they resembled the arc of the moon, And now like a fading moon, they left her face to be a moon-less sky.
Wish I could have known the heart of her mind, which must have been once like the diamond,
And now, broken like a glass.
Yet when she stood, I felt the grace she possessed.
Like a wounded warrior, tired of the gruesome
War, still calmed.
And she walked out with her head held high like a warrior's sword and pride.
For the past have taken a piece of her away but her grace was still intact.