NYMPH

The beautiful nymph
With a mystical oomph,
Doe eyed,
Eyebrows well defined,
A chiselled nose,
In a state of repose,
Or is she alert,
In pain, hurt,
Her eyes complex,
A sadness they reflect.

Her hair parted,
In a bun tied,
Stuck in it a China rose,
All colours on her cheek flow,
Round beaded loops sit on her ears,
A slender neck weighed down by beaded layers,
Lips with a slight curve
Ready to swerve,
A rounded chin,
All echoing a din within. 

Out alone in the world,
With nothing else that stirred
Other than the dragonflies that whirled
With their wings unfurled,
Around her they flew,
Nearer to her they grew,
Did she give them the patches of colour,
Or did they lend her some pallor?
A mystery woman,
She was no one's. 

Is she sad
At the big mad world
Who have broken her
Or shaken her?
She seems to be on guard
With a saber or sword
Against lunatics,
Harming fanatics,
Tearing off her modesty,
Or is she ready for amnesty?

A big bright dot
Red hot,
Sits between the brows,
Like a bright flower between two boughs,
Is she married?
Or committed?
For whom does she wait?
Is not it very late
For her to be in the wilderness?
Not for the wild is her tenderness.

Oh! But a nymph she is
Of the woods and the trees,
The spirit of nature,
Of flowers, breeze and rivers,
The nymph immature,
Now as a dragonfly soars,
A beautiful young woman,
The guarding maiden,
A colourful sylph,
The beautiful nymph!

©Madhumita