Fresher than the dew of the morn
sweeter than an ear of corn
who is this that stalks
even when the night rests,
inspiring legs that talks
enchanting breasts,
who is this that passes
leaving hearts high and dry,
lips bearing scented kisses
eyes that passionately cry
body tender like a stream
who is this that makes men swoon
as if they where in a dream,
this is the lady of the moon.

©Obaro Unukogbon, May 2003