Her hair fell like gold on the side walk
Shimmering brightly as she walked
Leaving her trail of golden petals
Yet her eyes shone like coal in a heap
Piled up and up by grief
How can hair so fine and rich
Grow from eyes rimmed with sleep
She travelled with a mirage in sight
Her body aching as well as inside
She wore a rippling dress made of silk
That curled in the breeze
Across her smooth skin
Her eyes know that that they are blinded
But she searches still blindly
And her mirage is as aloof as the heart in silence