To my Blooming Rose

In your life you must have seen many places,
Ran many races,
Heard many cases,
Loved on a regular basis,
And in your face I see two faces.

I see your mother's wit,
And your father's stare
Searching for which broken pieces
Go where. I see your hair
Glimmering like a china plate.
You're beautiful. I see something
In you, but something that makes you wait.

I see an artist
Trying her hardest
To break new ground,
To lose herself
And not be found,
To hear the ancient drummer's sound,
To hear it played and play
Her own flute louder,
To leave the powder by the mirror
And become prouder
Than all that she fears.

You're beautiful,
Cooling water of a mirage oasis.
You're beatiful,
The awaited object of many my paces.
You're beautiful,
But in your face abide two faces.