As I sit on my bed <br />Golden orange sheets, <br />Made of silk, my head <br />Tilted, combing my hair, <br />The wind pushes the <br />Wooden door of the balcony <br /> Slightly ajar bringing <br />In the melancholy tunes <br />Which you sing for me, <br /> The ivory comb drops <br /> To the marble floor <br />My white veil touching <br />The floor, rush to the <br />Door pushing it apart <br />With my pink hands <br />And enter the balcony, <br />The peacock dances <br />In the lush lawns, <br />Roses bloom, Nightingale <br />Sings and there I see <br />You my handsome Prince <br />Standing with arms folded <br />Over your broad chest <br />Looking up at me with <br />A smile as I look down <br />From my balcony <br /> <br />A sequel to the poem Balcony from poet Sadiqullah Khan<br /><br />Reshma Ramesh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/looking-down-from-my-balcony/
