That Girl

She goes, she goes away, oh there goes that girl,
goes and glances back, laughing soft as pearl.
She melts into the gentle river's bend,
her rose-red feet sketch pictures without end.

In wide eyes, sweet kohl's tender trace,
humming songs that fill the listening space,
golden champak flowers crown her hair,
bright hibiscus sways with bashful flair.

Vermillion marks her brow—
anklets chime somehow,
red palash blooms at her throat,
fragrant longing in eyes remote.

Wayward tresses—
steal soft caresses
from spring's warm cheek.
In her walking's joy—
flower's perfume
makes the wind grow meek
to rhythms mystique.

She goes, she goes away, that kohl-dark maid—
humming sweet melodies as light does fade.