MY HONEYMOON
Kneeling down to Heaven
21 in fasting
Feeling glory cascading
Closing all the questions
Healing you through craftin'
He says I teach him patience
A melanin' gent in question
Flaws and all we're lenient
My vats brimming with new wine
He drinks only from my cistern
Stood firm now a subject to His blessings
Those loins strengthen session to session
A season where no weapon
Can taint our blessings, look it's too perfect.
YOU ARE READING
THE ART OF LOVE: POETRY
PoetryLETTERS TO MY BETROTHED, A LOVE UNLIKE NO OTHER. POEMS PROMPTED BY FAITH.
