By JH Sayyar
O silky hairs that flow like midnight streams,
Each strand a whisper soft, a moonlit sigh,
Thou weave hair found in lovers' dreams,
A sable veil that makes the star looks shy.
With every breeze thy tresses gently dance,
Like rippling fields beneath the summer rain,
And captivate the soul with just a glance
A tender snare, no heart can long disdain.
The morning sun with envy seeks thy sheen,
Yet pales beside thy smooth and lustrous grace;
Neither royal crown, nor woven gold is seen
To match the glory of thy flowing lace
If beauty speaks in silence, thou do speak,
With every wave the holy heavens meek
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