Strange how it could be

Seeing her twice in a full moon is an uncertainty that I confine to.
Her presence is rare like an eclipse, comes and goes for the other
decade.... she moves swifter than the buoyant air
pollutant.....swerving like an unstreamlined vehicle and never stopping
with a hydraulic braked legs !!!!!!! I hollered after her like a
mobbed old Granny till I went tenor on my innate baritone and my
voice crescendo descended like an escalator .......reassuring myself
of seeing her again is surely a fantasy.

Am caught off guard every time she comes around swirling like a mini-tornado.........with a beauty inscription that showers fortitude and solely reminds me of Nature, body slender and plastic, legs olived to glitter, Silvered foot, Platinum nails, Cinnamon scented, the black Venus of
Morganictown ......am left with her shadow, a shadow built to
perfection.....the magical artistry of God... with a Made in heaven
label....... contemplating optimistically and waiting on for a better
chance to say hello while time intervenes, My most dreaded friend


OOOO ...........if only she knew how she blossomed like the floating
water lilies, the female hungered athletic toads would have craved
after her. Her innocence Shows how immaculate she is. With a vibrant
piercing voice that ripples mud water and represents a speechless Dionne Warwick and so shy to speak with friendly strangers, an illiterate
would label her paranoid in a split eye-click .......she only needs a
few minute to build memento for confidence ......then her words won't
be affected by gravity.......her words flow like fluid observing
Archimedes principle and float like wondering dandelion


We barely see, we are like pine trees separated by distance, we cling
to each other with the aid of the generous wind .
She's my Ralph Lauren, my Burberry, the polo to my heart.....

Dear
Isobella......The Black American Girl