Dedicated to my another sister Afrien.
(Me trying to scribble)
Afrien, how can be so quiet?
Having a name sung by a poet.
That’s a sluggish start of the poem
You would think Aquib is such a boy who smear.,
Aha, my dear dont mark my words
(Let me start for real.)
As the poem unfolds the years’ roll
Upon swinging air she walks with
such pride the demure channels,
Your words spread perfume over us,
Whose smell get embedded in for eternal years.
Certian is that your aura will spread like purple Kunthiana
That spread vividly wide annually over the brooks.
(let me add more hues)
There is one aura a pure like a Borealis,
Resplendently belligerent sprinkling aroma
Of puerility and refreshing souls
Like mythical Eos’s dewdrops.
Spreading saffron sparkles before dawn.
Her words, A petrichor everlasting
Smell, imprinted on naive minds.
(now comes the sarcasm)
Afrien, a dilemma of ‘i’ and ‘e’,
What name should Afreen or Afrien?
Like smoke subliming in air,
Let go this retort, bid farewell.
Well the bard in me now impersonating.
(Afrien’s rule never ends)
Eons will last your kingdom,
Uptil when the stars twinkle.
Upon Auric carpet will thy feet tread,
And shoes that no hands ever made.
Your rules certainly will never end.
You will be paid your price with
Valour and grandeur at your doorstep.