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designed patterns

with a cone in right hand,
I watch the henna flow,
creating patterns on my left palm
those intricate designs
tell a story on my palm
I squeeze it carefully
to prevent spurts on patterns
when it dries out,
I scrape it with a knife,
loving the dark ochre shade
apply henna oil to set it
morning comes, I wash it
admiring the designs

I watch the world of sunset
on my palm, kiss it slowly
spread it in front of my eyes
and let the patterns engulf me
I think of those dances
which were so easy
each of my steps so carefree
my dress flowing around me
I come back to the present
smell my palm
each finger gyrates
my other hand holds still
watching its twin go crazy

hand out, palm upwards,
henna is a great story teller
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