Byron Cornell Ford II - Adieu

As I write

she sits on a porch blowing wind at the trees

speaking in a language foreign to my ears

admiration ensues..

she bends tree trunks with her native whispers

behind every strong man you'll find a weakness for her

her eyes lure me into a covenant

Hers forever...no doublethought

Ayo Nisha'

they'll never figure us out, my love...