Fee-On-Her Joy
Fee-On-Her Joy
The peril of the real epitome of African goddess,
Her gift packed neatness pouted love in her,
That has been brewed from Luo love pot,
Her lips lithe in the coat of spicy charm,
As she slough, the hot, sharp, and pleasant heart beating echoed voice,
In a mouth full of jibes from the blessed blossom balmed lips,
Arousing their loins at the joint of thigh,
As if it was fee-on-her, that gives birth to their joy,
She is real artistry of long lost African goddess,
Don’t ask me fee-on-her, because Fiona is she that joy.
A beau clamoured with joy to charm-hypnotized eyes,
Your enchantment leaves,
The mind free to ride,
An up and down undulating waves of dreams,
As a thin sleekly silver, chain adorns your tender neck,
And disappears into the deep ‘V’ cut,
Between, the budding bust thrust of your breast,
For those who do not know you,
Awes the bog of jealousy to your African knotted body,
Don’t ask me fee-on-her, because Fiona is she that joy.
Copyright © Sabion Osore | Year Posted 2015
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