Sabitre

Sabitre Her long, flowing hair, as black as the night Cascades, waterfall-like Over a firm yet tender body Shimmering with some mysterious light Her mouth is like some sweet, exotic fruit Just ripe to kiss I doubt that Paradise could promise more than this Her eyes dance As though lit by some internal fire And when she walks She walks with grace enough To make monks mad with desire When Sabitre laughs You'd swear you'd heard the angels sing It's a joyful sound That radiates throughout your very being Don't shout When you pronounce Sabitre's name It should be whispered softly Like a cool and gentle rain