Its 7:30 in the morning when you wake up with a yawn;
For summers its shiny,but winters,its still the dawn.
‘Drowsy face,hair scattered’, is as pure as one can be;
Slouchy,sluggish,but you know you have to leave
When you come out of the shower like a fresh lilly,
Looking on,you adore yourself,acting childish silly.
Its an art to learn,when you gracefully brush your mane,
As they float in the breeze,coming from the window pane.
A small altar at the other end is where you pray at ease;
Even the Gods in heaven cant help but be so pleased.
Getting dressed for the day is a long, hard fought fight;
Westerns you may like,but traditional soothes my sight.
Its peevish when you masquerade your countenance;
I suggest to put away with it & prefer sweet casualness.
I watch intently as you blush deep red or turn pale blue;
For me it has been & will always be about admiring you.
Mostly, its quite lonely and dark when you are gone away;
But I know,that you’ll reteurn to me at the end of the day.
I’ve seen you laugh,cry,learn & grow through many shades;
Mysterious & engrossing,you’re the “one” in a million maids.
Standing here,by the wall,at the right corner of your room,
I’m ready to be here forever and closely watch you bloom.
Its just a mirror to you,a mistake I can let go and easily pass;
B’coz you dont know,its ‘me’, looking at you through the glass.
