Can You?

Eyes so beautiful that the magic of wet Earth and sparkling green grass lay captive to their charm. To steal a glance and predict the next twitch would be a job I would give my life for, to hold my curved palm and feel the drop hit my lifeline is a wish I have cherished for long, to wilt under that stare and shuffle my feet while a mad search for words to save my face goes on, is what the self has been doing for long. Behold me as I pray for mercy, bewitch me for the period is short, betray me for we have a life to lead, beset me for the battles have been simple, behead me for thats the full stop I want.
So much for a thing of beauty, the poet was right, well .... almost right - Joy forever, he said.
But did he ever talk of brains, did anyone for that matter ever praise her for her mind, ever loved her for her wit, humour, raw intelligence and the capacity to hit back with an elegant mix of poise and panache.
Would you take the challenge, live up to it, praise her for all this, keep your ego in the backyard and yet manage to maintain the meter, capture the soul and pluck the right strings?
If you can, then mail me, if you want to then try and make someone read it, someone who is bruised, dead, buried and foolish.