But She Was Touched Poem by Akhtar Jawad

I arose early in the morning, a routine every day,
Washed may hands, brushed my teeth, washed my face,
Cleaned my hair, washed my foot, tried to have a little of the grace,
Proceeded towards light, with a mortal clay.

When I was moving outside I saw her on the top of a building,
Her beautiful blue house, and I noticed her fair complexion,
I smiled at her, but couldn't notice my smile's reaction,
I bowed my head and while coming back, saw her again still standing.

Now her face was clear and distinctly sighted,
An amazing beauty, a pinkish doll, in a white bridal dress,
I wished her hand in my hand, with love I could press,
She looked into eyes, gave her hand, in my hand excited.

I wonder how her hand was so much stretched,
What did she see in my thirsty eyes,
You may take it as a truth or one of my lies,
She was so far, but she was touched.

(A love affair with Miss Early Morning)