An African Beauty Called Ewuraba. Poem by Elorm Dogbo

The brow of your eyes,
The little pout on your red lips,
The curve on your hips,
The bulb I see on your behind
Are what keep me mesmerized,
Ewuraba

Ewuraba,
Your melodious voice
Melts my heart
Like Shea-butter
In the African sun.
I wonder the sounds it would make
In my ears when I caress you
And gradually cross the Rubicon.

Even when I close my eyes
I can visualise
You and I strolling inside
The chilly blue skies
And a heaven it will epitomize.

I feel so dumfounded
By the feelings I have within.
If I were a musician,
I would sing it out.
If I were the weather
I would rain it down.
If I were a rich man
My money would sensitize
What I would want to say
But I can only write it down
As a poet
And flaunt it with imageries now,

Is it true
Immoral,
As people say, you are.
Or they only take their premises
From the dressing.
You emulated from the foreign movies
Then it remains falling
On my deaf ears
Till the years ahead.

Ewuraba,
If any of my three dreams—
Of money,
Of love,
And of fame—
Should chronologically come true,
Then it should first be you.
I know with you,
Everything would come to me
Gradually.

Ewuraba,
My heart’s desire,
You are my life’s fire
I promise to let you and I
Remain as the Hindi corpse and a pyre
Or the orphan and God’s grace
Or as the athlete and the race.
If that is not enough,
I will always make you laugh.
For now, it is my best, I try
So that in the end I will not cry.