Henna Poem by S JYOTI RANJAN

That must adorn her hands someday,
Or is it today?
But whenever it will,
It shall play with her feelings,
Simmering the warmth of love in her beloved's heart,
Those delicate Lilies and vines;
And before its dawn,
An almost dark forest of those lush leaves,
shall sprout from her elbows,
They shall spiral up till her fingertips;
and bloom into a fully grown garden,
More beautiful than real,
As dark as her beloved's love blood,
The script of the love song,
sketched along the lines,
Sketched with Henna,
but etched with the colour of her beloved's heart,
And the fragrance of the origin,
the origin of all,
Be it the love, the friction of the souls,
and the warmth that comes forth,
The blooming of another soul,
with blood, bone, muscle, skin and love…..