Way she goes,
takes the world with her- Mom, Dad, brother and her sister.
Her fire is bliss,
she got no miss,
in her touch we wish,
we’d all cinder.
Ajar avenues,
rainbow views,
all await a glimpse,
as she hails spring,
into winters,
She troth care,
until we reach there,
it’ll be a fair-
of her highs, a beautiful dais, her jubilation,
a glowing sunny day,
Mom, Dad, and everyone at hay;
and as she’ll melt on our walk
towards the bay,
looking into her eyes, between the waves, I’ll hold her, to become her stay, her de rigueur minster.
-Jigar