A gem wit
Whose beauty is natural
Echoing fonds and loving to nature
When her sweet word sprouts
From her month
Young men stoops to stagger
By her scintillating words

...affection grip men thoughts
Of those comeliness of extreme tenderness
And profound fond of love.

You cannot know her
Until you see her
In her well kept hair _Suku.
Well weaved and plaited
With a tender scalp.



Popular posts from this blog

What the solitude of smoking and alcoholism looks like.

Great things aren't realized by impulse.

Reflections: Getting the Pandemic Right