Reborn To Love Poem by Nikhil Parekh

She was 100 years old; yet the blood that flowed through her intricate veins; insatiably yearned to a frolic like a teenaged damsel; once again,

She was 100 years old; yet the expressions on her shriveled chin; could captivate even the most remotely alien; in a spell of exotically never ending enchantment,

She was 100 years old; yet the impeccable whites of her fading eyes; unraveled a tale of poignant nostalgia; and resplendently unprecedented charm,

She was 100 years old; yet the melody in her bountifully wavering voice; unsurpassably enshrouded traumatized hearts; with perennially rhapsodic happiness,

She was 100 years old; yet the emphatically embossed lines on her palm; celestially depicted a tale of sheer majesty to; bloomingly unfurl,

She was 100 years old; yet the tenacity in her diminutively feeble footsteps; was enough to face the acrimoniously advancing army; beautifully singlehanded,

She was 100 years old; yet the magical smile on her divinely lips; still enlightened countless paths besieged with murderously barbaric gloom; with rays of unprecedented euphoria,

She was 100 years old; yet the astounding enigma in the lines of her forehead; spoke fathomless volumes of an angel; gallivanting in unfathomable
entrenchments of untamed desire,

She was 100 years old; yet the determination in her fragile bones; was irrefutably enough; to survive for a countless more births yet to poignantly unveil,

She was 100 years old; yet the ecstasy in her nascently subdued taste buds; was overwhelming enough; to taste the most appetizing morsels of eclectically titillating food,

She was 100 years old; yet the desires in her majestic soul; were a philanthropic ocean; to ubiquitously unite and serve all; mankind,

She was 100 years old; yet the impregnable ardor of her ideals; was a miraculous rainbow of optimistic hope; Herculean strength; and an everlasting will to bless all humanity,

She was 100 years old; yet the astounding titillation of her shadow; was still as luminescent as that of a freshly born immaculate infant,
She was 100 years old; yet the overpowering effulgence that tinkled as she walked; was a garden of blissfully tranquil and exotically fragrant enchantment,

She was 100 years old; yet the impressions of her heavenly feet; were a cloud
of perpetually endowing happiness,

She was 100 years old; yet the symbiotic synergy that crawled through even the most infinitesimal iota of her compassionate demeanor; was an ocean of unprecedented enthrallment; and silken charm,

She was 100 years old; yet the Omnipotent artistry in her trembling fingers; was a landscape of incredulously panoramic versatility; and ebullient color,

She was 100 years old; yet the fire in her sacrosanct breath; the unparalleled ardor in her fulminating heart; was an unconquerable fortress; of an infinite more redolent lives,
And she was 100 years old; yet the immortal love in her heart was just the same when our eyes had first met; as she unassailably took birth as my lover once again; even after she had abdicated her last puff of vital breath.