The Charming Lady

It started as a shadow
turning into shades
getting transformed to shower
burning in its shine
the colour of a sapphire
with meaning as sublime
as the contours of Sahara
as if whispering in solitude
rising up as a smoke.
There it was- smiling-
the lady with the sundew.
She had splendour
and she was serene,
her face flushing with shyness
the looks of a flustering sheep
ready to get into a sheath
shrinking into her own self
and shaking like a September sampling.
What she wanted and what she said
the Senorita guarded her own secrecy
She was live with life and wet in scarf,
she winked her eyes and sent the signals
such was the charisma and such a spark.
Was she real or was she a spectre,
was she for sure or was she a surprise
for sure she had a surgical smile
like the waves surfing on the sea.
The nearer I went the farther she swept
the swirl and the swerve so sadly svelte.
At last the eyes were fixed on the scene
and there she was-
a picture in the sky
supple, surcharged, supernal and supine