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