The curling Iron

 

The wild curls in her tresses,
Needed some serious taming.
Her face surrounded by the flock,
Cast a shadow on moonlit face.
To glance into pools of wet sands of her eyes,
I needed to move away the curls,touching gently.
As i touched she looked at me staring
Into depths of whirlpool of my confused thoughts.
She smiled and moved away to a lonely corner.
It was a turbulent night.

Next morning she was at the task again,
Curling her tender locks,
To trap some more in coils of her tempting tresses.

 

 

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About Nalini Srivastava

I am an Indian.I write to let go of myself.It is my catharsis.My biggest inspiration is my son and every passing moment of life.I am a teacher by profession and the way I love to write ,I love to teach.With my one solo poetry book already published "Feminine Musings" hope many more will see the light.

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