Love PoemsMicro PoetryPoetry

My Strawberry

My strawberry is neither plant
nor found in a garden
Her hand is honey and
of her sight, fallen roses.

Her heavenly voice blends
with her chocolate skin.
her face is beyond human capabilites
and her presence means life to me

I can’t loose her
for I lost one before
Love you (Mama) Maimuna,
the engine of my soul

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