The black sapphire that she was…
Straddling on her young years,
She who must be blowing dandelions
Kissing the turquoise sky while singing jade,
A woman- she wombs the curls of sea
In her brown locks of hair,
She owns the tint of roses
In the subtle smile lingering around her lips,
The mild current in the summer breezes
Buckled up around her embrace,
But that’s not how she saw life,
No winds from the East,
No waves from the ocean’s womb,
No blues from the burning flames…
can bring her down.
She’ll hold out!
a new light oozing out of her feline eyes…
a tigress was born
SHE made herself one.