Her Like 0 Twitter Om Rasal Follow Sept. 15, 2016, 11:11 a.m. in Creative Views: 789 Like us on facebook I was lost in the smell of her hair spray. Her scented long locks spread the essence. I couldn’t take my eyes of her fair white arms. Fairer than the word itself. Glimpses of her face when she looked aside to her friend. That’s all I could enjoy of the beauty, from behind. She was thinking. Then scribbling. Then writing. Then scribbling again. Her actions very intense. I hesitated to call her, but anxiously took her name. She turned around and looked at me, I blurted out ‘pen’. In another series of intense actions she put her pouch before me and asked me which one. Still comprehending the beauty of the face I said ‘any’. Confused but still pretty, she pulled out two and put them on my desk. Turned back. Again scribbling, again writing and again spreading essence. Published by Om Rasal Share Mail Messenger Twitter Pinterest Linkedin Comments Related Article Creative Poetry: Him and Her Creative Poetry: Fix Her Up Creative Her.