You bloomed coyly,
donning a crown of
glory
as I
left;
uncertain of what was to come
or how I would survive
without your shrouds
of royal purple
unravelling
slowly
to reveal your Queenhood.
You bloomed,
teasing me to stay and wait and see
You fulfill your grace,
dancing down from the tree tops
onto my yielding face,
Falling evermore in love with
the royalty of your name
spelt out in my
blood and soul:
the Africa that my chest drinks in
with
every
breath.
