African Storm

I would make my bed,

I would wash my hair,

I would scrub my head,

I would close my door,

I would shuffle shoes on the floor,

I would stare at her,

As she slept in peace,

I would study her curves,

I would reach her feet,

I would calm my nerves,

I would ready to sleep,

She would feel my presence and reach out to me,

I would strip my guards,

And dissolve in her arms,

She would trace my scars,

And promised to do no harm.

The power between us, like an African storm crashing bolts of electricity on our plained landscapes, bolts for heaven, bolts of God,

bolts of pure peace packed in the shape of lightning rods.

The eternal storm…thunders on, forever, and ever.