And he named her Grace...

With the metro train no where in sight,
reading the time on his watch did not serve.
He was late for the third straight day,
and was loosing his nerve.

Fortunes changed, a scented breeze tickled him,
he looked over his shoulder to see.
Spellbound he was in awe,
and realized he had an open jaw.

The platform was bustling with people,
his heart skipped a beat.
Adjectives failed him at that time,
and all he could murmur was…she is sweet!

Those deep brown eyes, the most radiant face,
she had the greatest charm.
She stood some five feet six,
with her cascading hair falling down on her arms.

Unaware of her secret admirer,
she set her hair right.
A lovely smile lit up the entire platform,
as she waived to her friend on the opposite side.

Her olive skin, those dangling earrings,
that white Indian dress…
her expression as the caresses of the breeze played over her face
the image sketched in his heart forever
and he named her Grace.

The train glided out of the station and everybody left,
but he stood there alone.
Time was no longer on his mind
for he was in the love zone.

--Neeraj Gandhi