Rhythms of her Beauty
She's not like the others,
It doesn't take much,
To make her happy,
A kind word, and a Crescent moon,
In a sad world,
Her undulations,
Makes the dove wings fly,
The way Summer vineyards dream,
And our love sigh,
She's not quite like the others,
Your rhythms are down to earth,
Ethereal, Exotic as a Mango,
Sweet in its kiss,
Your honey hair,
May change like the seasons,
