Curved
to precise precision
Her
blossomed bosom beckoning
Mellow
like the wild savanna melons
Planted
within the season
Her
tender impeccable skin yellow, like the guava fruits
Her
titillating saunter
Transcend
her twin fundaments
With
the power of a quake
Undulating
her to a rhythm, of sighing hearts
And
roaming stares
Her
intoxicating simper adorable, to my heart
My
desires imprisoned in the snare, of her elegance
The daughter of the
valleys
by okandiogada
You must be a romanticist. And each of the poems has a dance, rhythm, song movement in it. Nice.
ReplyDeleteThank you sir....ha ha ha but what of the romanticist bit
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