She came, a beauty with no address
Upon my doorstep and shamed the Sun
She came at midnight, not a second less
Now, the year counts from when she was born
There was mystery to her time
As she wrestled to kill the night
In awe we watched the stars mime
Her haloing sparkle of light
I wait to have the truth of her heart
Whatever colours it may show
Will be the beauty to beat the rainbow
Will be the pulse of dear love’s start
Otbor.
Aventuяine 
You’ve always been good with words but writing a poem is a whole different ball game. Great work!
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Much like the way a drop of water would feel on the parched lips of a despondent soul trudging wearily along a desolate land, so does this piece invoke a burning desire from a long forgotten memory…. and just as that lonely soul must strive with whatever strength is left in his tired sinews to reach an oasis and quench his thirst, remembering what joy abounds in the embrace of mother water, so must I strive to live in whatever semblance of sanity I have left to see what becomes of this piece.
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Err bruh, do we put up a pic and post your comment?
Loool
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*grins
I just had to express the emotions I felt while reading this rather brief tease. There better be an oasis at the of all this or else I will Yippy Kah Yay somebody!!!!!
*Sharpens Katana
*Serious face
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Nicely woven, Welcome to the Aventurine…my good Man *Odenigbo’s voice*
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niiice. i guess u mean ya daughter. tsall good
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