You really are the heart and soul of desecration, even in the face of all odds, you shine.
I look at you and I think, that’s how a black woman ought to be. Like she, within the delicate cradle of her palm, holds the answers and truths wildly sought after.
Are you not a woman? There is, within you, everything that shape the patterns and mannerisms of this earth: A smile that emancipate constrained flowers from within their buds. You hold discernment and compassion in your bosom.
Your flair induces the earth with the light that is day.
Your smile gives warmth to the morning blooms. Your eye’s spark gives inspiration to the blossoms, and your elegance graces the gentle evenings with its aura.
Look at you! Are you not the source from where the sun harness its radiance? You infuse pleasantries in the meadows where the butterflies play. You are the source from where the springs flow, with your grace, you rekindle the darkened nights into days.
The wonders of a delightful woman are beyond measure. Her gentle cares, therapeutic touches and her caress are truly the greatest treasure.
MisterPoet
Mr. Poet 