I called her golden child
because her skin glowed from a love that came from deep in her heart
it twinkled outward with passion
she was the object of beauty
with masculinity hiding inside
chestnut dripping in honey
self assured and confident
but yet meek at times
the golden child adorned by all
for her lush supple lips and perfect smile
Can I lay between those lips for awhile?
or listen to them speak
If I was summer was she was fall
calm, cool, warm like a mother's womb
a magnificent site to behold
like the first golden leaves
God herself in tattered paint covered shirt
I called her golden child
and made her my sun
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