Bearing the burden of her greasy teen
She walks nearer to the lovely shore
Her mind weaving a satin nest of fantasy
Uncertain and lost she gazes at shells, sand and its shinny core

If the flora of her bosom is the gift of heaven
Then why does her heart flees away like a bird quite clever?
Harmful are not those enticed eyes that tease her temper
But the honey soaked tickle that makes her moral feeble

Morals, ethics and godly status of virginity
All her mother taught and she pondered
If the lessons were complete then what is
This strange feeling that mother never taught?

Whose silent woo doo is this that prevents her from falling asleep?
Are they that lean boy’s eyes or her own cribbing?
Something better from the childhood has surely happened
Or this was too is her starry notion before those pinkish nights?