#21 Lines For Her Hips Poem by Vincent Onyeche

O my! Wondrous soul..
Could feel this
Beauty blowing breeze.

She's as neat as color white
As clean as a sterilized object
O my! Wondrous soul.

She has this face of an Angel
Yet attracts the devil
Like bean and a weavil.

All organic like trees in the garden
Her gaze could overcharge the sun
She can create confusions in heaven.

Speaking of the devil,
Her waist began with a needle
And curved out righteousness evil.

A type that gets the toad singing
She's superb but her hips got a thing
Broad and broadcasting

Come and sin
Until you've seen,
You wouldn't believe her hips could tear a jean.