The Belle

She is her own phrase.
Whose concise synonyms
Are rare as a painite gem
Rather, she is a cyclopaedia
Full of features of my liking

Many I have stumbled on
With bits of her nominal essence
But barely a full course meal
Barely close to who she is
Whom she is in her entirety

Whenever I intend to compliment
Words and phrases choke me
Like the language is of adjectives
Mute of her gloss in its fullness
Of the savory of her substance
No syllables form its exactness
Not pinpoint to the detailing of my eye
Nor to of the feel of my heart
In its rhythm while under her spell

She is like a mouthful
You need a breath to speak her
The audible promise of bliss
Pronounced in her features
Then the naughty look
Spelt in all over her innocence
A celibates aphrodisiac

All I see in her enchantimg lure
Is her passionate lover in me
With full command of language
Brimmed of bottomless adoration
Glorifying her way she should be
Handling her like a tongue twister
Defining her suavity in its fullness
Pronouncing all the phonetics right
Of monosemic words of her beauty
Just like she should be epitomized

©Mutegi Humphrey

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