MISTY BEAUTY

Behind the misty dawn of a hillside window,
Sits a great Poetess, scribbling in a shadow,
With a fair and simple of a face, like a boat,
She seems to be like lotus in a blue lake slot,
With its lonely waters edged by moonlight,
Stranded on a sand-bank of a river at twilight,
I looked at her, caring; she seems to be dull,
Her window is not closed, night is full,
She opted, just only her window for freedom;
There the daybreak light meets her kingdom,
Through it, her eyes like, lost stars travel back,
Towards the blue sky by far to open a love pack.