WILLIAMSJI MAVELI WRITES

On stage bathed in starlight's embrace,
A beauty emerges, her grace takes its place.
Not just a smile, a gown's flow and drape,
But henna's magic, in intricate shape.

On porcelain cheeks, a twilight's soft bloom,
Not rouge's touch, but stories in the room.
Whispers of mothers, hands close entwined,
Henna's designs, secrets unwind.

Beyond the pageant's glitz and its frame,
Heritage whispers, whispers her name.
A touch of tradition, warm and profound,
Where ancient beauty on new ground is found.

As twilight fades, the henna remains,
A gentle ember, love's whispered refrain.
Not just a mark, but a story untold,
Of beauty's tapestry, carefully unfolded.

So when you see the henna's soft stain,
Remember the love, the whispers, the rain.
For beauty's tapestry, richly it's spun,
With threads of henna, kissed by the sun.