There she goes, through the sultry,
the murky waters,
her name in dainty handwriting
on a dark stern of Swahili mangrove—
Allah’s signature in blue on the bow—
as I watch from the sides
where a tide of passion recedes
to let her go.
There she goes, through the sultry,
the murky waters,
her name in dainty handwriting
on a dark stern of Swahili mangrove—
Allah’s signature in blue on the bow—
as I watch from the sides
where a tide of passion recedes
to let her go.