Beautiful people,
don’t go to fashion weeks,
nor own a spot in Gucci or
the Versace,
Their noses are never contoured,
But their actions are
emblemed with the foundation of kindness,
dressed to kill in actions of peace,
walking their talk,
their dangling earrings streaming peace,
clothed in attire revealing pure hearts,
oh my!
You can’t look away from them,
Their milk teeth that glow in the dark,
Like a candle deep in the woods,
a tiara of daffodils and zinnias,
decorate their afro like the queens they are,
they go about singing,
on how beautiful the sunset is,
sadly, they live in the Himalayas,
Away from humanity,
for their hearts too pure,
for our corrupt hearts.

By Joy Kirima.

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Still learning more under the sun.

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