Woman

She's born of another
and to others;
a mother.
A friend like the rose
gentle and thorny
cultured and principled
free, like the living rivers.
All of her is beauty
inside and out
like how he desires.
She speaks truth
but in words;
moussed with fire
over a tongue that rolls;
whilst his kiss, is acquired.
She can foretell the future
from the feelings in her gut
that may have forgiven
the heavy soils of the past
but not forgotten its smell.
Inquisitive as a shadow, yet,
as mysterious as dark.
A conundrum, sunk in attraction,
as his approach
she meets with decorum
and a hint of seduction
watch you shiver to your liver,
tickle your spine,
like drops of frozen wine
as each eyelash, shuts against another
like; ka-boo--oom! -...
your brain capsizes; whooom!
you hear your heart drum,
as from her words she relays persistence.
Strong,
the power behind his very essence
yet gifted with palms,
that have minimal use of friction,
placed on your skin,
drives you to tumescence.
She makes him look handsome,
his ego, bigger than it is
her sanctum, innermost of which they both lay
site of eternal worship
isn't it amazing how she makes a house a home.
Yet all this she may
and everyday still hold her own,
is as a dove is, to the very core of her bone,
but her path if you cross as you may,
you'll find exactly,
where raging dragons lay.

Fimisola-Samuel