She’s a sun-kissed
    Yellow peach—

Strolling on
    Beach Boulevard
with a
    rhythm to
her feet.

Honey in her cheeks,
Tender when she speaks

and
the gloss on her
    lips glisten
like
  polished rubies.

She’s sweet like
Hennessy with cranberry.
      Warm skin
the color of chai tea.

The moon melts
      at the
          sight of
               my muse.

How could one refuse her?


She’s
      Sunday afternoons
listening to the
blues.