Padma’s Sonnet
(a Shakespearean sonnet in iambic pentameter)

In mirrors, her reflection’s hard to read:
her eyes deceptively shine star and sun.
As rubies do, her mouth drives him to greed:
march strong to mines, then turn as if to run.

The actors know she’d never learn to sing
the arias that others write alone.
Requests are never taken by the king,
except when Padma deigns to steal the throne.

A fiction writer (who gets paid to dream)
in fantasy, should hardly dare to dwell.
Reality creates a simple scene:
she left him plainly, reason dares to tell.

She doesn’t mind to hang her heart in frame,
but lotus flowers bloom within her name.

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