(Happy mother's day)

Dear American lover,
I know I don't have
the voice like Micheal
Jackson, but I surrender to
the comeliness of your voice.

Beloved white skinned
lover,let the purity of your
love pass through my soul
and let me feel its greatness.

They saw wrinkles on your
skin, but I saw lots of pretty
dimples and immense beauty.

They said you're aged and
fade-out, but I said my eyes
saw agility and maturity.

Dear American lover, I know I
have no golden wealths like
Bill Gates, but I have fiona
and flora of love in my heart
to give to you.

Give me your trust and  I
shall install it on my young
agiled and poetic heart.

Dear American lover, let us
take a love flight to the United
States; Maryland where your
umbilical cord slid away from.

Come and take me away to
your heart where I shall dwell
in there forever.

Anytime I raise my pen to write,  
my excerpt is a sketch of Sulty,
and those nostalgic memories.

Anytime I raise my pen to write,
I sketch ravishing images of her,
my nightingale.

Anytime I take my pen to write,
I carve no shenanigan images
of her, but of the comeliness
of her love twitching  my
blood stream.

Anytime I raise my pen to write,
my ink is full with the gravity of her
love, ready is my pen to write of the
bonny of her beauty.