Her Messy Bun

The golden strands of her logs, 

falling from her messy bun, 

Face glowing with exhilaration, 

Hiding her tiredness. 

My eyes kept gaping at her,

A bong girl in a saree, 

Pleats tugged in her waist, 

Blew off my sense.

When I saw her curves. 

Her dimple,

And black bindi, 

Complemented her more. 

Her messy hair, 

Was her kind of beauty, 

When it waved in the air, 

And danced like a carefree bird.

Dripping over her lips in red, 

Made me realise, 

Kissing her forehead,

Would appreciate her beauty more. 

As I pulled her closer, 

Tangled my fingers over her messy hair, 

Gave me the sign she's my soulmate, 

I was waiting for.