The Beauty of Sitandwa
What beauty is she that makes the blind see?
What curves are those that have every lip
walking the atonement of sharing her bed?
A lass of yesterday waking early to dry her sheets in the sun
has blossomed into a red mushroom so smooth to the eye.
So frail, so reckless but a kitten dancing in the dark.
Style is a song winds sigh to all ends of the earth;
Sitandwa now colours her face in shades that soil the eye of the beholder,
And has bought herself a bosom that blurs the wisdom of man.
In pursing her brows further, she has managed to steal my father from us;
These western winds have brought only shame and disgust.
20/12/17
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