As I sit on my bed
Golden orange sheets,
Made of silk, my head
Tilted, combing my hair,
The wind pushes the
Wooden door of the balcony
Slightly ajar bringing
In the melancholy tunes
Which you sing for me,
The ivory comb drops
To the marble floor
My white veil touching
The floor, rush to the
Door pushing it apart
With my pink hands
And enter the balcony,
The peacock dances
In the lush lawns,
Roses bloom, Nightingale
Sings and there I see
You my handsome Prince
Standing with arms folded
Over your broad chest
Looking up at me with
A smile as I look down
From my balcony
A sequel to the poem Balcony from poet Sadiqullah Khan
Reshma Ramesh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/looking-down-from-my-balcony/
