A Glimpse Poem by Rupinder Chandel

'Solitary Traveller' 'Mystery Woman'
her bizarre names
With an effortless poise
she strolled through the plains
Face covered with a veil,
long hair falling loose around her neck
Black- her all time attire

Tight-curved lips, left exposed to wind
in a style, as trying out her feminine wiles
Painted red lips, as dark as blood,
dribbling from a fresh wound
And embellished with an alluring smile
Men, desperate to be her guide

On the way back home,
her sluggish walk resembled the living dead
Once glossy lips, bereft of smile
chapped-ripped and faded red
She followed this placid humdrum
resolutely like an evangelist
Men, prying to be her guide

What was she trying to hide
What secret was she adjured to keep
Did she even belong to this realm
the questions bothered every mind
answers seemed extremely enigmatic

Not even a soul knew the real her,
was not entitled to question
nor had the audacity to
The conundrums were, thus brushed aside
Men, learnt to move on
The veil remained unravelled,
and so the mystery

NO one ever caught a glimpse of her face
and neither did she, of the world,
they inferred!