Her music floats through the air
Hanging in the autumn breeze
Like the scent of the garden flowers;
Drowning out the buzzing bees.
The sound of her lute creates a misty cloud
In his mind as he stands
Her voice carried by the afternoon sun
(More golden than the honey drops)
Suspended over the musky earthy scents
Wakened only by the raindrops from
The morning showers.
And with her voice, and her lute,
She strokes him
And he feels her soft touch
Caress a samurai heart
And he tenders down to an orchid flower
Brought to life by the touch of the sun.
Read another poem by Rizowana Hussaini: Dog Ears