Hanging down from the pelmet
gently sways the rippling cascade,
The curtain with floating primrose,
sometimes away, sometimes close,
Takes the breathe away from the pane,
which looks down the springy lane.
The pane jitters and clutters,
when the edges of his adored flutters.
O' thank you ! the gentle air,
for you bring her touch so fair.
The heart of pane:crystal and pure,
selfless love it does bore.
His beloved reflection in it is seen,
his love ; world's riches can't win.
By; Sneha Mishra
Comments