Down from foot nail to hair on top. . .
She is a masterpiece of beauty. . .
Her feet sound without ankle chain. . .
A pleasant sound when she takes steps towards me. . .
Her wrist smells better than a wristlet of jasmine. . .
The fragrance of her wet hair leaves behind Petrichor. . .
The shine of stars on the sky may come to measurement. . .
But the scale of her sparkling eyes will remain undiscovered. . .
The moon serves the Globe in parts. . .
But her smile enlightens the universe inside me at once. . .