Grown.
My baby done grown up.
Hips as wide as the horizon,
Lips plump as the moon,
With eyes as bright as the sun.
Her brown skin glistening with what we call "no bodies' business".
The coils lay around the smooth skin of her face,
Her innocence there,
Yet no longer desirable to her.
My baby done grown.
Her words are long as the road she chose to travel,
Her mouth knowing just how to persuade anyone her way.
She done grown up before my eyes.
Her curves painted at such an early age,
Her smile shaped in the best way.
She knows not of what she's doing to every man,
Yet she knows of the curse she's spent.
Her breath round with perks,
Her thighs splendid and ripe,
The fruit of her womb motherly and lovely,
Her legs shut tight for every man that tries to invade,
But pain holds her tighter.
She's grown now though,
And Lord,
She can have you bent and wrapped around her small finger.
Hoping that she'll use you in the ways she desires,
She's a grown woman.
YOU ARE READING
Woman.
PoetryA book of poems and feelings. A book from a girl, a rose from the concrete. A Woman growing.
