The African Bride

And I thought, could she be the last of many The beauty told in different verses The story scribbled in every ancient chamber The soulless music that flows with the waves of art The undenied deity to curse a man's heart The one coated in patterns that make a poet tremble The rare black rose that rules the forests in madness She holds every curve drawn by the ancestors Chubby you say, but thick as the trunks of a baobab tree Spiced with African darkness in her hair Only to be the dessert to the setting sun that melts away with the oceans And so, she is the African Bride. Thick, dark and beautiful.