She is half wet half dry
Grin on her face more like a cry
Rummaging her bag as she rushes over the cross road
Mutters her lips.. God.. I don't know why
The tap of her floater on the ground
And she looks to find whether any auto is around
Zephyr brings the mizzles along
As I stare the dangling earrings
Her eyes meet mine
And in bewilderment she sighs
She is shining in a suit beamish yellow
And i am just a next door fellow
Would it disturb her if I ask
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