Dyed hair slapping the wrinkles
The wrinkles rebuking the age
Eyes dancing down the lane
For a rose of beauty, my Poon Moon
Not merely a life saving remedy
But a rejuvenating touch
Immortal like soul piercing into me
My full moon a spark of beauty
Not merely a face of beauty
In a golden heaven of seven
The moon- the spectacles of the old
To draw an image of glory.
Widespread Like the Ganges plains
Beating all horizons
Builds around invisible monasteries
To chant the psalm of beauty
Tiny eyes, tiny lips of my pony moon
Like a thousand silver moon
Sprinkling silver smile
Wrapping my wrinkles in tinsels.
(Written after seeing a cute baby named Poon Moon)
