A month

You barely see her forehead,
As she peeps from over the mountain.
Hiding her face,
All scarred from years of strife.
The day is special,
The start of something new.
You promised her a new start
The end of something to forget,
For she is coming out of your shadow.
Over a fortnight,
She has prepared for this day,
Each day adding a little more,
To arrive at her wondrous splendor.
As she gains more courage,
And steps out of her room
Every eye turns to her
To wonder in her majesty
This is first meeting, anew,
She has chosen an orange drape
So splendid against the dark room,
Set off by the glow on her face.
As she comes out more,
She changes into a resplendent white,
Dazzling to the naked eye,
As bright as the midday sun.
She hides not the scars
That runs along the side of her face,
Her scars make her more alive
Bringing perfection to an imperfect being.
As she progresses along to you,
Willing to put on show all she has,
She starts removing from what she put on
Moving from splendor to a thin crescent.
You could hold on no longer,
For she had to be in your shadow,
“A fortnight in the open”, you said
“Is a fortnight too long”, you said.
All dressed in black today,
Hiding the scars on her face,
She slips back into your shadow,
To remain behind you for the day.

For the full Nila outside the window, and the full one inside