To her who can –
evoke a smile for no reason;
hand a ‘happy high’ sans spirits;
yet with her single glimpse raise…
sky-high a dead man’s spirits;
To her who can –
with her beauty set even a stoic heart aflutter,
and make the most articulate tongue stutter;
bring spring to a barren soul,
and by just being herself, delight, excite and unite –
I make this ode.
