You would say “looks are immaterial;
It's just the head and the heart,
what is in a face after all?”
Then why do you keep staring
at the never-dying radiance on my cheeks
and recognize the essence of divinity,
and believe it’s a touch of the mystique?
The pride in the arch of my eyebrows
and the halo and the tilt of my head;
your earnest gaze,
there’s your need to possess!
You look into my eyes,
the twinkling and sparkling
and it ain’t my fault
if you get immersed and sinking!
Pouting, pursing, promising curve of my lips,
and those familiar secret longing in your
The luster of my hair, the sheen on my skin
keeps you captive, the eternal beckoning!
The musical pledge on my forehead
makes you desire love;
the innocent arrogant tip of my nose
make you wonder at the creation of God above!
So you see, it is just not the face
but the story of life;
it’s not just a face
but I the woman and my strife!
Soft like a feather, hard like armor
pure like a child, wild like storm,
the hue of the sand,
the touch of the rainbow;
that isn’t just a face but
I the woman, you know!