To the girl sitting at the table in the corner-
Sunbeams bounce off the smooth terrain of your face.
Dare I say, even the brightest star in the fieriest of constellations is no competition for those dark brown eyes
Flickering mischievously and almost blinding, like pools of liquid gold in the light.
Naughty black coils spring playfully in all directions from the top of your head, or maybe it’s silky dark loveliness kissing your back.
Does it even matter?
Excuse the cliché, but I have to point out
That in your voice I hear every church bell and doorbell and bicycle bell,
In every village and town and city; ringing to its hearts content.
Nature is in a frenzy every time you walk out the door
A symphony, a carnival, a wedding procession announces your every move.
Am I wrong for noticing,
That the waving branches of birch trees and mango trees and cherry trees try to mimic your graceful step as you dance on the graves of
advertising executives who plot to make you hate yourself a little more each day.
Forgive me for saying (for I don’t mean to disturb you)
But how could you fail to realize,
That even the very air you breathe vibrates with your presence
Your aura is touched by an angel or two, blessed by God Himself.
So to the girl sitting at the table in the corner, the girl with the defeated sag in the carriage of her could-be glorious shoulders
in San Diego
You are NOT
summer time fine
You are the essence of what it means to be
-Zoe Gadegbeku, Editor-In-Chief
Image source: http://community.empathzone.com/group/thesevensistersgallery (Zoe G.)