Cupid Shot Me

To love is to live.
To live is to die.
To love is to die.

Cupid shot me with SHE
And I have been dying.
Slowly, surely the old me
Gives way to her moulding.

My heart has a mind
Of its own; it races
At the sight of her,
Thoughts of her alone:

Thoughts of her hair
Richer that scottish wool;
Her eyes has more light
Than the Milky Way Stars;

Nose of a reindeer;
Cheery Cheeks of Cher;
Smile that warms my heart;
Beatific face of cherub;

Shoulders gracefully made
Like gazelle’s godly gait;
The twin minarets of her chest,
Gourds promising blessings;

My heart beats at her waist
Frequency, with attraction;
Legs agbani can kill for;
Perfectly packaged prime beauty.

Little wonder you are Mopelola:
Complete in all wealth. Mopelewa:
Complete in Beauty, Adunni:
Sweetest way to die and live

To love is to live.
To live is to die.
To love is to die.

(The content of this wonderful vessel is the subject of another poem)

Follow @AjalaYemi on Twitter

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