Remember , I , her
A gracious smile and Godly art .
Down the memory lane , where she sat ,
Lone to herself .
Each day , many , went and by
None who failed to be awed by her skill .
And soon she , heart throb of crowds ,
For she drew dreams , well shaded
And gave it hues in their palms ,
To cherish , to pamper , to relish !
A yard away you are ,
The herbs aroma lures you .
And you get there , to get ,
Rewarded by a beaming smile .
The wonder she weaves out of the tiny pastels ,
Beauty in itself , Mehendi you call it !
Weddings and bdays , parties and weekends ....
When your heart longs to see your hands blush -
In dark , a tinge of sunset ,
You dash to her , her magic ,
And return to hail her !
She craved too , to feel the blush of cheeks ,
To be adorned in red ,
To get bound in a knot of nuptial
But , who a groom would like a bride ,
with no hands at all !
Leaves fell and petals bloomed
Time flew and mists of life cleared , for her .
They now brushed beauty in palms ,
She with her lips , made art on your hands
And he in a chair with wheels , painted palms with the paste.
Together , shaped they a nest of love
with and for ... each other !