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India...

India, much more than a country to me
She is really a solar system that controls me
With her pull not gravitational but always
Inspirational.
In her slender frame she frames beauty like
An outline or the shape of an expensive bottle
Of wine or a crystal glass of cash stashed in the
Dash of an E class…
If I’m the camera..she’s that flash
It’s pretty tough to be prettier than Miss Petite
Perpetually pleasing to all eyes and lenses and binoculars
And microscopes and magnifying glasses and infrared
And if you’ve read her expressions you see the light
Dancing in her eyes and her body dancing to the beat
And to beat her dancing requires expert eyes and body…
Can she here me whisper her name in seasons of discontent
Maybe, unless the sound of flapping wings disturbs the sound
As the angels follow their princess as she floats on this earth
To give us a taste of her beauty and the blessing of her voice
And the light of her soul and the glimmer of her smile and
The genius of her brain and in moments far and few she
Defines the role of a queen and the strength of a warrior and the
Grace of a hummingbird and the humility of a lamb and the
Poise of Mother Nature and I hope the wings of angels grow
Silent for an instant so she can simply hear me say thank you
For simply being India.

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