By Andrew Ntchindi Jere
Her island footsteps
A well played xylophone
Accompanying her tender voice
A voice that scares away worries
Her island body,
Well punctuated with a curved figure
That captivates me as it shakes with vigor
Moving as if beckoning with both hands
Her island handclaps
Are well played dumb bells
Percussions accompanying her heart touching laughs
Laughs that mind-echo; without an obstacle,
When she is not around
Her island heartbeat
A well curved ever sounding drum
An emotion tuned instrument
Playing for the band of her breathing
Her island round face
A black smooth pebble,
Well chiseled in God’s hands
Shining around her already shining eyes
Seen clearly even in night’s accumulated darkness
Her island identical-twins dimples
Are upside down Islands
Temporarily coned within her cheeks
Seasoning smiles on her smiling face