I have no need for spiritualists, seers or tellers of fortune
Because this lady Is the ball of crystal
I roll across my mind, when I yearn to dream
About the scintillating beauty of god's creation
Her dream-giving eyes I peeped into
And saw the rare beauty of rubies and emeralds - rich with fatal attraction
These thoughts of her beauty have stripped me of my self-control
Because how else, can I explain this morning
When my vocabulary repeated punched my dictionary in my mouth
Tsunami of desires took over and persuaded it, to use only her name when defining the word beautiful