My Dream Girl
This is a prose to my dream girl,
A dose of creamy cakey dream,
Yes, she is in a dream.
The pose lost to the modeled statue of Liberty changes,
All North’s and East’s brought together and wrote on same pages,
Fairytales branded realistic finally...
A man has no point of survival without belief,
Enough details…
Song quality voice determines the evening‘s end,
No more crocodile smiles of pretend,
The very smile she causes me to intend,
How lovely that this night be without end.
Clouds are our ship to that vicinity of flowery cradle,
Her presence to this darkened house a candle,
Her hands through my body are a love ladle,
Please don’t let me awake for I will with life struggle.
She is a keeper,
My own contentment’s keeper,
Every action I desire I get from my mind reader,
My other half you are my minority leader.
Purple roses will insult your every awaking moment,
All those lost youth emotions she re invents.
Love brings forth a desirable present,
A worthy life lived with content.
Now I ask if you are fit for my loving.
For tonight I celebrate my love for you,
And hope that deep inside you feel it too…
Copyright © Emmanuel Madande | Year Posted 2016
|