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Her arms laden with shell bangles and her face and the rest of the body bedecked with jewels,
She keeps on moving her feet, hiding her beautiful yet unrecognizable face from the glaring sun, with the veil studded with mirrors which shone like thousand stars,
When her feet move, her soul moves around the images of her children waiting for her at door,
When her arms move, her anger courses through her slender body, why was she never enough for her pimp of a husband,
When she twirls around, she looks at the crowd watching her, and watches her skirt beautifully spreading around,
When she moves her fingers, the Sun danced though the gaps of her hands, as if it were weaving a golden tapestry,
Her eyes keep looking out for him, who she once met, when she was young, when she watched her mother dance like she did now,
She closes her eyes, as the wind hit her lustrous black mane with the hot sand,
And there he was, in her heart and for him, she keeps dancing.
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