Beauty of the Cradle

She chuckles like the sun and strikes into every soul like an arrow She Glitters like the black stones of the cradle land No man resists her sight No female born of nature match her beauty At dawn, Eyes take the on your mark position to see Androids ready for prints and pencils fueled for portraits Admired and beats of diva parade the minds of *****sex We need not visit a red mat display they murmur Mirror to all atoms of cultural heritage Eloquent at thy activities Coil from the falls of Mungo and shocks off the hinterlands of Manyu She Inhales from the botanic of victoria Fortunate are tribe kins Cause she is one of her kind