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African Woman
She was born in the hands of a bloom fragrance
She was cuddled in the realm of pure innocence
She wore a clean culture root
She swelled a decent design youth
She had a black thick Rainy jungle on her head
They described her strength for earning bread
She had a hip that tells the handiwork of boundless powers
Her chick glitter like a dozen of silver flowers
She walk like a cat tripping herself
She sit gently like a king whose sense are deaf
Her legs are like bronze mould with ultimate perfection
Her face is like rocket fastly rising doubtless impression
Her words are like milk digested through the ears
Her smile is like a chilled wind rising curious hairs
She is an african woman rubies in every village
Her beauty is a gem circling in their heritage
poem
by
Kemurl Fofanah
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