Her Veil Poem by Alka ...

Her Veil
Her dupatta is stuck on her head:
Eyelashes rubbing her veil;
And the veil is soaked in her tears,
Her hands maintain the inches:
While measuring her feet;
Breathing in and out, the same air.
Yet at times, her breath blows away it;
While her lips hold it tightly;
Wind sighs,
Forms her face on her veil:
In the exact proportion,
Features, so prominent.
Now wind violates;
Her chin, her lips peep out:
Her fingers cover her naked chin;
Too naked, to be seen,
Each thread is known to her eyes;
Blind, but with eyes;
The eyes are inside,
The eyes are outside.
Her nose is used to its smell;
When she speaks,
Her syllables are unidentified:
To listen,
If only is needed.