Her
In the cool of morn she came to me,
Her heart worn on her sleeve for all to see.
This was not our first encounter and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
She had a fire in her eyes I am yet to know,
Her locs caressed her shoulders, laying peacefully at her waist,
Oh how elegantly she wore her crown.
Although, her face was like that of child,
Life had knocked her down a few times but no scars were left of her toil.
Her soul was emancipated and every move announced her majesty.
She knew that her presence itself told a story of a miracle.
So much so that those who wanted to kill her, now stood to marvel
at who she had become.
In this war of life, she had fought many battles,
Lost a few to herself but never one did she give up.
All in all, I was pleased to make her acquaintance,
For I know one day, I will be Her.