from afar, she walked with purpose that was uniquely African!
you couldn't tell the musings that inhabited her world of fancies & poetics within her being.
only after a slight slice of serenity in serendipity hit us — did we merge instincts,
and after which did we glide into pages in this modern age
to come up, up close & personal in seeking out our souls spread there to swim shyly within!
hers were delicate delicacy of deep emotions fused with succinct writing — emerged,
`her honesties` would tug at my heartstrings, then I'd feel this urge of urgency to fly back in time: and meet her when love hadn't become a cyanide pill.
then maybe, there in past times, I'd rush into her heart's 💕 corridors like David dancing jubilantly with this new ark of blissful, hopeful love prospect.
then I send her my poems in present which tend to be pithy which tickle her sensibilities preciously, I’d imagine!
she’d read them, and in mind I’d watch her eyes gleam through my words & try hear her voice in soliloquy read them in her heart,
I’d wish I sat next to her as she peruses her notes to find more of her poems to rush to me to read – and tell her this will be our new eternity, where our emotions would be open books between each other
in That toxic new world of our poet's insanity, I'd tell her she was all mine all along, our time hadn't yet been ordained, henceforth, we shouldn't ever spend a second outside each other's soul, senses and spirit.
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