deep and dark did her robe flutter,
Like the long wings of a bird
weak and feeble drifting in the wind.
Neither could she embrace it tight nor could she let it fly.
The veil on her face hid her mouth
into the light did her eyes peep, like a dropped pearl in a glass bowl,
dancing its way left and right and to the corner ,
perhaps they waited to narrate ...
was it the agony , that silenced her laughs
or was that she felt a warmth under the black.
Her fingers were white and clean,
nails were short and plain.
She embraced her veil to her bosom,
her eyes still dancing and robe still fluttering.