Her Tone Poem by David Kinyanjui

She stands like a record,
Her legs as strong as a stallion, can only let one decode.
Her eyes dirt in their sockets,
She is of fine texture, She bears no scratches.

You can dispute she is not moulded from clay,
From the curve on her waist,
To where her arms lay,
nothing goes to waste.

Her blossom is how she holds it,
Just so her mind can remain fit.
She stands like a record,
Nothing less can one accord.