When she soffles my tangled hairs,
I could feel her warmth and love there,
very tenderly her fingers move to unravel the layers,
then she spill oil to massage with care.
Her soft experienced fingers moves everywhere,
lectures me to take hair care,
my headache vanishes with her tips shared.
She then ties a plait tight telling me-
It will improve my hair texture bright,
but I hate the way the oil drips,
soaks the pillow cover with its bliss,
hairs pressed together with a sober look,
but I want a curly model outlook,
that it would swing in the air to fall in my dimpled cheeks
and cover my lips with the shampooed hair! ! !
airs pressed together with a sober look, but I want a curly model outlook, that it would swing in the air to fall in my dimpled cheeks and cover my lips with the shampooed hair! ! ! marvelous work., you have a way of writing which is very attractive. words simply flow and the expression of what is in you. thank you very much. tony
Nice work with the muse of love! Playing the role with the staus of the hair in your poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Ms Mishra, Do I find a rebel in the poem?