Your Sensuous Sun Poem by Hannington Mumo

Is it for the fear of again being hurt
That you treat aspiring suitors like dirt?
If this be the case, then you should rethink
Your opinion on this, for you're on the brink
Of a grievous error without possible reverse,
By killing hope in a world where luck's sparse.

Many other lasses pray for this luck
But their hopes and stars are stuck,
They look east and turn south in wait
For some love-seeking men to give a date,
Yet all these you've received every day
And trashed all of them into the litter tray.

The dew of beauty now settles on your skin,
Your lustrous smile invites the urge of sin
But nothing unchanging remains save change,
Your sensuous sun grows in slow varying range,
And soon shall evaporate the glittering dew
That makes you rule both Gentile and Jew.

Such suns have existed before,
Yet all shortly shine and go.