The Worthy Poem by Surya Pratap Singh

A girl in the wind, that girl aloft,
Had she came, or cometh not,
On her dies hard, my heart fast,
My tongue ripples, this luscious talk,

A sharp breeze, a gentle wind,
He voice harp, like harmonic strings,
Her hair messy, arranged perfectly,
Resting on her shoulder, frowned she,

The ripple feel, of the leaves,
that's how, her touch be,
A thousand words, and one me,
Together we wonder, the worthy