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Vibrations on A Hardwood Floor
He told me his fingers could get trapped in my roots.
And he wasn’t speaking of my family tree.
I was his sugar rum cherry
Syrupy treat
And so bitter sweet.
He said I spoke in verse
and giggled in rhyme.
He said I reminded him of a tune
Too elusive to recall.
My body was inspiration
that he could not transcribe.
So he made it a point to
Commit me
in all my dimensions
to memory.
Incre((mentally))
He became trapped in these roots.
Just as I feared.
I was his a-
His a(hhh)
His af(firmation)
His Afr(ica)
His afro
Afro-disiac.
Damn.
By Ayesha K. Faines copyright 2007
I really liked this poem!
I really liked this poem! It's cute and the ending is entertaining! Great job!
<3
gah I love those opening two
gah I love those opening two lines
Much Love
Ashley