The Mistress
A fine beauty blended the waves of sea
Sparkling eyes, like stars of christmas tree
Mystery throngs the atmosphere of her existence
Her scent fills the wind, recognizable from distance
She walks like a peacock, speaks like a dove
Like a heavenly angel, sent from above
Modest and humble, selective, with thoughts
She writes of love and beauty with countless dots
Melancholy, but joy behind the showing smile
Determined to win the race of thousand and one mile
Is it mystery? Or craving love is what she need
Unless she speaks, it will be a secret indeed
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