From across the walls

Long black flowy curls, bouncing in the

wind

with eyes deep as a great white.

They tell a story

of a wild Ox, fighting for its young.

I’d see them only at the sound of the bell

when it was time to make my rounds.

Almond brown skin; which the sun hath

made,

love to it.

Spots on her nose; scattered abroad like

stars.

How can beauty such as this be confined

in a box, or on a leash.

Beauty as hers should always run free

for even the trees are compelled by it.

The moon stands no chance

yet it’s high up in the sky.

And her;

she’s a flower in a desert,

a bird with clipped wings

unable to soar.

The print of my linen bring forth fear.

I bring her breakfast with firearm

she’s sore afraid.

As Montague to Capulet.

The nemesis of our love.

But when I look back into the night of her

eyes, I reassure them,

blood would shed for them.

she’s safe with me.

The slant in her lips tell me,

she knows.