Amara Poem by Chimnonso Nwakanma

Sitting in the back pew,
within walls shrouded in lew,
I beheld this wonderful creature,
with a smile belighting all of nature,

Her skin knitted in fine threads of gold,
unspooling from looms in Midas' hold,
and her tress flowing like the river Rhine,
in ways so slithery, so serpentine,

Alas, my heart's chalice yearned a fill,
but I feared it may drown in its overspill,
so, there I sat ogling away,
hoping to have this dream another day.