Filled with a beauty...
A tasty edible like mine
In the dishes of poetry
at the kitchen like mine
Flourishing sweet scent
everywhere in the SPK

I wish I can bake
In my kitchen a tasty
cake, it's a birthday
cake not a fake but
on a paper using a
pen not pen like
ordinary pen, like a
special to mix letters
in the paper bowl to
give some words and
to bake all words in the
imaginary oven just
for the baked cake of
Beautiful phrases to
appear on a table
before You,  Sir

Slowly it sipped
with an alphabetic straw
A tasty words covered the tongue
for every sweetest,
the ear, it listen to the
beautiful phrases from
the malted poem

A beginner like a new
I know just I am...
I place some on the plate
A right plate on the table
Some are cups I placed
On a wrong table just
Because the kitchen is
is a new and the kitchen
wares are not well deco
Most, are fragile and
broke in to pieces
and the broom to sweep
is not well fitted
And, alot of customers
want attend
And mismanagement
is conquered the kitchen
....

Glaring at me...
My beautiful hours
in the evening of doom
Staying without me
I think I can't attend
somewhere closer to me
Why your hand in his hand
My heart is saying different
Why your sight in eyes
my heart still is reviewing
Why my hours are beautiful
BUT, My evening is doomed
I spent all and all for you
Why you can't uplift me up
For, just want fly like a bird
But I have no wings like a bird
I just want to touch the sky
Why? I remained still on the ground
...

There is the beauty
on your tongue the
ugly on your hand,
so never let your heart
darken as your skin
whitens...

Safana - The Poet✍🏼