On Skirt




She was on skirt

That was what my eyes caught

It seemed like her life had never known dirt

I could write a page on her and never use but.


There was no painting on her light skinned face

She was the dim star in a very bright constellation

She shyly escaped my gaze in her speedy pace

She seemed too lonely and dumb for a wise generation.


I could see her thoughts through her eyes

Her dreams and standards were unusually high

She needed some support, a stay, but got lies –

They said she was too picky and that her dreams would die.


She was young; light skinned and was on skirt

Those were the features my physical eyes caught

But she made my mind comb through the whole earth

There was just one her, and mine she was not.


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