Said she, ‘Precincts let beauties thrive,
So shalt be at distance, the divine!’
Could not be conversed even stuck
in reek,
Made such harangue, precincts she seeks!
Alas! Not true such if not meant
to shine,
If in mazes there’re no ways
always;
Where wheels can find no realm of
light,
Paradise not when lost in self
praise.
Like cats see what naked eyes cannot,
An inundated diary of her thoughts;
As if those shalt be incarcerated,
a day,
Who distorted ink with liquid strains!
And hands that could write but
never penned,
Amidst noise of typewriter, her voice
bent;
Who knows what who one preach &
pray,
If precincts what’s confer beauty?
Then let that stay! 😊