Beautiful...
Painted; the word beautiful would take the form of a woman,
It would be brightly coloured to resemble the she spirit.
It would be gentler than a feather,
So gentle it wouldn’t pop a soap bubble.
I bet it would be stronger than titanium,
A gentle kind of strong typical of woman.
Every brush stroke would express her perfection,
Her delicate figure formed with each painted line.
I bet the word beautiful wears a yellow dress,
She dons her brilliance both in smile and apparel.
I bet she slays the devil in a red dress.
When she walks her hips rhythmically sway from side to side,
Her gait even and deliberate.
An angelic orchestra plays when she laughs,
A slight quiver in the corners of her mouth as her eyes light up in a smile.
Beautiful.
Her poise…an object of veneration like a rare butterfly,
Spreading affection and joviality with every flap of her fairy wings.
A festival of sensation; enchanting sight, mesmerizing hearing, thrilling touch,
Delighting smell, Captivating taste and Spellbinding intuition.
In a word BEAUTIFUL.

Sayamo Dikana