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 homo 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
Copyright © Agbor Junior | Year Posted 2016
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