It was her, and the sweet smile she poses when she passes by
And she catches your sight when she leaves her seat
And her hair outshines all other crowns you have seen
and she passes by with fragrance-then again leaves
Leaving you a glimpse, but never turning back.
And I wish I can write about you-but then again
I have to write about her.
Coz when she speaks, she speaks softly –it makes you want to hear.
And she laughs- modest and feminine
And she makes you want to start a talk
And she keeps the flow-then again leaves
Without answering you back
And I wish I can write about you-but then again
I have to write about her.
And she makes you spell her name at night
And makes you want to hold her hand
And she keeps you waiting- for non ending chances
And I surely want to write about you-
But there was nothing I can scribe, if not about her.
