The lost girl

Posted by Zave | Posted in , , , | Posted on 18:16

She looks lost,
Her big eyes wonder,
They steer round,
Surfing the square,
The new market square,
Trying to think,
"What is next?"
Wearing a disgusted look,
On her defeated face,
Like a small child,
Who just lost her toy!

Dressed in green,
Her loose top,
Making her look fat!
Her blue denim,
Touching the ground.
Her black belt,
Hanging from her waist.
And her high heels.
Complementing her well.
She wears a bag,
Carries it rather reluctantly,
A small piece of cloth,
Hanging from it,
Betraying her secrecy.

She looks again,
With overturned lips,
But this time in anger,
Looking jealous of people,
Of those who are walking,
Moving confidently,
Knowing their line of action.
'Cause she is lost,
She is really lost!
Why is this?
Why is she lost?
She hates her even more,
And her face tells it all!

She walks hesitantly,
Walks towards the cones,
The ice cream cones!
She tilts her head left,
Stares at the hoarding,
Trying to decide,
She couldn't still,
And now she does.
She turns around,
Walks opposite to it,
Walks towards the tailor.
She turns again,
This time to her left,
Moves further forward,
Stops near a tiny lane.
She seems to search,
Search something,
Even she can't decide.

She stares down the lane,
Biting her lower lip,
She looks again,
Taking her hand up,
To kiss her chin,
Which moves slowly up,
Goes up to her lips,
Wetting her finger,
And suddenly comes down.
She walks down the lane,
She seems confident,
After ages of confusion!

She goes up to a man.
A man dressed,
Rather wrapped in cloth,
Huge untidy beard,
Grey, not 'cause of age,
But 'cause of the dust.
He seems too puzzled,
But looks expectantly,
With pleading brown eyes,
His lips trying to move,
But his voice choked out.
She pulls a cloth,
The one that hung out.
Its a silky scarf,
But a hell lot long,
And presents it to him,
He doesn't think,
Just extends his hands,
And takes it,
Then inspecting it,
What use could it be?
He seems happy,
Having found something,
He turns around,
Walks out of scene.

She returns,
Goes back to the tailor,
Seemingly content!
Did she want that?
To dispose off her cloth?
But there was this strange,
Happy face when she gave it,
It was more than disposing,
That is donating!
And I loved that look!

She unzips her bag,
Pulls out something,
A cloth to be precise,
And a long one too!
Seems to be a saree.
I don't contemplate,
Their is no use,
Her deeds are strange,
And let it be so!
I just look on her,
Watch her strangled,
In the loop of silk.
She twists and turns,
Unwrapping herself,
I just give a smile.
Finally she gets done,
A bit of negotiations,
And all is settled.

Now its scary,
She is walking,
Walking towards me,
And I keep staring,
Watch her move,
Her hair locks swaying,
Her eyes still wandering,
This time in curiosity!
And she looks,
She looks straight,
Right into my eyes.
I should back off,
But I don't.
I look at her,
With a pleading smile,
Trying to ask more,
Where does she go?
Why does she go?
Why do I look at her?

She smiles,
Smiles sweetly at me,
Trying to say,
"Poor boy, curious!"
And walks away,
I want to follow,
And I would,
If only I could!
Lots to worry about,
I move away,
Away from her way,
Looking at her,
As she withers away.

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