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 Copyright © All Rights Reserved