IN SOUR SEPTEMBER, A MONTH OF PAIN AND JOY…
When I slept my heart was awake, I dreamt my lover knocked at the door of my soul.
When I woke, I entered her garden, I ate her words Like honey comb, I licked until I was drunk in love.
My mind got wet, my emotion got soaked in the mist of my imagination, Let me come in, my angel, my dove.
I have washed my feet and I have already undressed, my body shown like wild ivory gold, a sacred temple of healing, smelling of incense and spices.
She is thrilled that am close to the door of her heart, she was ready to let me in, As she grasped the door handle, I was already gone.
She waited for too long and an opportunity was drowned in time, how she wanted to hear my voice, she searched but couldn’t find me, called but heard no answer, she got struck and bruised by the guardians of her wall, they tore off her cape.
She became weak from passion, my bride, my heart, she is the most beautiful of women, her eyes shone with love behind her veil, her hair danced like palm leaves, graceful whose glance is like the dawn .
Her teeth is as white as a flock of sheep that has just been washed, perfectly matched and not one is missing, her lips are like a scarlet ribbon, how lovely it whistle air when she speak, her cheeks glow like the sun, her neck is shaped like a tower.
Breast bunched with grapes, like a ripe apple revealing in a curtain of leafs, her breasts is like gazelles twin deer feeding among lilies, the curve of her thighs is the work of an artist, a bowl is there that never runs out of spiced wine, it has gotten Kings and Warriors drunk in lust after a sip.
Her face is celestial how perfect she is. Women ask why is your lover different from everyone else ?
What is so wonderful about him ? Why should we give you our promise ?
She sat on her throne, weak with passion, her eyes glared, gentle as Dove washed with milk, she said “my lover is mine and I am his”, he teaches me love, he holds me like the sky holds the moon and the sun, he know when to shine and when to dim, he is like season, he never fails to perform his magic tricks.
His caressing word lights my skin like the stars shining in the darkest night, he is my foundation of conception of love, he brings me to climax without sex, his face is smooth as a fiery gold, his beard is shaped like the pyramid with hair black as raven, his eye is a mirror to my heart, so beautiful like doves by a flowing brook, doves washed in cream, standing by the stream.
His cheek is a garden of herbs and spices, that beckons heal me healer, his lips are like lilies wet with pomegranate wine, his hands are well formed, strong like that of a warrior, enduring like that of blacksmith and fit to catch a passionate Queen.
His body is a temple of ecstasy, washed with honey, his thigh is hairy like a naked corn, he is majestic like a mountain towering with cedars, his mouth is laced with strawberry yoghurt, always sweet to taste, everything about him enchants me.
In sour September…