The Crowning By Christopher Mlalazi

I shall crown your waist with a bouquet

Of fragrant blossoms

I shall plead with the kind sky

Just to drop one Silver Star

From its shimmering bosom

That I shall press upon your navel

I shall ask the sucked out sickle in the night sky

To lend its softest shine

To the warmth that courses through your blood

That your skin can drip milk

And be textured as the finest silk

I shall plead with the wind to be merry

And waft freshly and briskly past your dale

That I shall fill with birds

Of the sweetest song and finest plumage

I shall ask the setting sun

To turn down its fierce wick

And become a soft crimson

Above the wrought boughs of ancient trees

That you may look up to behold this vision

And Oh, I see your angelic face turned my way