My Envy…

I envy not your admirers
Your boy friends or your colleagues
Your neighbors and your kin
And those who die and try to win…

But…

I scream at the brush that enamels your nails
I dram to be the brush that paint your lips
The pendent that hangs around your neck
The lonely drop of sweat that slides your brow
Wind’s so arrogant in brushing your silky hair
Stems so eager to feel your finger caress

I grumble as I see you love them more
And mumble when you push me deep in yore
Yikes… I tear my hair
But stay calm and not dare