A Word On My Belle Poem by Timothy Faboade

That ethereal being, fairest of all,
Whose smiles are weighter than gold
And her name all gods divinely call,
As the brightest sun in noon she's bold.

Like the morning dew on bright flowers,
Or like the happiest, mildest dove
Though known like the Eiffel Tower,
She's the humblest, best to know.

Unlike Helen, the lone doom of Troy
Or Dido, the hexed love-victim Queen
For her sole Suitor there's joy
Which forever by all shall be seen.

Can't she be a rival to the Moon
Served by a faithful team of stars
Or the lighting Sun many a Noon?
A lady adored by the Sun, Moon and Stars.

Her God-given beauty above the Four Rivers,
Like a sweet incense of cinnamon spreads
Yet she's not proud to any and the Giver.
Some say she's a Rose, Hibiscus bed.

Where she treads, Love quickly springs
Her words cheer the Suitor's heart
That she honours like Byzantine Kings.
She's the Eighth Wonder of the Earth.