The Look

By Tobi Abosede

]

There she stands,
Queen of my dreams –
her eyes –
twin lighthouses for
my storm-tossed soul. . .
Her tresses flirt
with the wayward wind –
coaxed air makes a lair in her hair. . .
I will watch the moon leave its hiding,
I will watch as nighttime falls,
I will watch her heart and read therein,
the beauty of it all. . .

Here, I stand,
washed by her eyes’ pool.
Here, I bow – captured – a slave;
not conquered by a sword – but a look.