The Portrait Poem by Tarun Sharma

At dusk
few miles away
swaying her hands
in the fields of barley
tall enough to be looked at
her swirling black wisps
in the wind
the joy
when she jumped in to the sky

From the window
I can feel the fresh air
she breathe in
the sound of her anklets
jingling with the peers of her smile
Slowly slowly rushing towards me
the red glow of her face
stretching my stem in her energising warmth
I stoop up in my vace

For the last five years
in every dusk
I watch the pretty morning
from my vace
this time smile will bloom out
in to the flowers
and she will bless them
with the ting red blanket
at every dusk every day