Black Queen - Poem by Albert Martin
Clothed and warmed by blankets of feathers
Endearing black skin queen
Now you’re lying
Your body rests
Bare your feet
On soft amount of lilac they’re comforted
So as your head
Abysmally kind ought to be them hands
That made your bed
Why to compare you to pale monarchs of older days?
What can be huger than the mystic in your dynasty?
“why to build a cloud that shadows every home of yours? ”
That was your prayer and your word
And that is what we feel
And that is what we pray
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