They Call Her Beatrice. My Goddess, My Love, I'Ll Say She Is. Poem by Elorm Dogbo

They call her Beatrice,
My goddess, I’ll say she is.
I wonder what attracts me to her
From the sole to the hair
I know not whether
My feeling would be like the weather
Or like other men easily made blind
It lies far from what I see behind
I don’t know what really
What magnets me
Is it the curve on her hips
Or the voice from her lips
Her soft cheeks
Or the way she speaks

They call her Beatrice,
A heroine, I’ll say she is
I observed as she competed
Though in some she was defeated
It never broke her heart
Nor made her world fall apart
I guess she is a one
Out of a thousand and one.
Whose face do I still visualize
As soon as I close my eyes
It’s she that makes my heart beat faster
When I am nearer or farther
I wish she feels the same
Because I going insane


They call her Beatrice,
My love, my awaited love, I’ll say she is.