Thought of the fairest hooyo
Is a hue to dab on you.
‘Red’ would tinge a thing 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;
The 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 peck my lips to sleep
Halfway through some lullaby,
Eyes and cheeks in Snitcher’s love
Just so real in whitish-blue.
