I thought of how fair you are,
And a hue to dab on you.
‘Red’ would do a tinge or two:
oily drips on apple skin.

Cubic glass that sprinkles rays
Mixed with brilliant sparkling smiles.
That you are, in white as sun
Only sieved of scourging warmth.

Afro-brown has joined the queue;
Melon-bulb that’s packaged soft.
Mummy’s nurse that props my head:
Food and rest in dermal bronze.

In the night, your colour glows;
Leave me not in colour blind.
Pledging scent that cuddles me,
Shadow not your penal self.

As you pecked my cheek to sleep
Half way through some lullaby,
My eyes caught the snitcher’s love:
Just too real in whitish-blue.