Her Name Is…


She strides with a regal pose

Dreadlocks trail down her backside.

Highlights of copper and gold

woven throughout her crown.

Her physique taunt and limber

like that of a dancer.


She bathes in frankincense and myrrh,

the glow of olive oil illuminates her ebony skin.

No catcalls follow her along her journeys

for men are breathless by her aura.

Young and old love her the same;

the young see the child within,

elders garner strength from love she sends.


Cypress trees bow to touch her lips.

Weeping willows encircle her in tender limbs.

She leaves every place better than before her presence.

Her name, you ask. . .

Her name is,

her name is,

her name is

Beauty. . .


by: Joyce Rose-Harris © 2006


One thought on “Her Name Is…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s