Rendez-vous

Foot in mid air , she stills her silver anklet
Tinkling softly , low and dulcet.
She gathers her rustling silken skirt
Sounding like leaves when the wind does flirt.

Her fair beauty turns crimson in the blazing sun
Blushing deeper with thoughts of a loved one.
Her searching eyes flit left and right
Darting like a frightened doe in mid-flight.
Strains for a flute , does her delicate ear
But it’s only a koyal in the peepal near .
Her pounding heart does miss a beat
Her anxious eye does her mind cheat .
For it misses that freshly dug mound of mud
From which flutters a tatter stained with blood.

Foot in air , she wears still her silver anklet
Tinkling softly, low and dulcet.
There is rustling from her once silken skirt
As she walks in the air over the reddish dirt.
Her beauty now ageless though a ghostly white.
Barely visible on a moonless night.
Her searching eyes still flit here and there
Looking for signs of him everywhere
Her ears still strain for the sounds of a flute
In a distance does only the night owl hoot.
Her furtive glance her delusional mind
Are all that has been now left behind.
For grass has grown on that mound of mud
From which no longer flutters a tatter with blood .