Cinnamon Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

In you I found the land of India,
In you I perceived another sweet youthful aroma
Of whom India is and is to be tomorrow in eyes.
You are a coin of gold to that land!
Fertile, fruitful and fresher than the dusk.
When I see you, nothing looks like your gracious body,
When I behold you, a woman becomes my second thought!
Dynamics of the spirited trees in the forest of trees.
Here I lay under your tender embrace,
Here I dream under your umbrella to love again.
Clarity of a blooming perfection, bold to stand alone!
You're mild, gentle kid sister to an African Rose
I enchant of your graceful leafs at home
Of your seasoned nobility bearing children.
Even the lonely cloud knows of your beauty,
When men seek for easement;
They lay under your armies proudly.
If firm, I can stand today avoiding
Yesterday's pitfall; let the traces be found in your fruits.

© John Vincent Artistry
For: Film Republic Pictures.