Coral lips like a sickle
In there, is the cradle of noble speech.
Boobs pointed like icicles
From these, the fire of lust is kindled.
Trunk figured like eight
On this, dreams pass to reality.
Straight slim legs like a fiddle
They can make one an eternal fugitive.
Dark silky hair flowing like a rapid
Here, beauty was originated.
Sparkling eyes with a tint of rainbow
They melt a man’s heart.
In that gorgeous thing you call a woman
Heaven and hell make their lofty entrances.
Mikhail Ikpoma(from my work: Borborygmus}