When you look at me, it tells me many stories
I drown in the ocean of thought and love
Will it be your slim hands or the flowers you wear
Or the hair do that celebrates the African woman?
You smell like the morning dew on roses
And sometimes like mint mixed with guava!
And when you smile at me, I swing like the monkey
Through branches of abundant joy and desire
I call your name; Ladawa, my own Ladawa
Softly, you whisper back like the mambas spit
I am very obsessively happy calling your name
So let the forests, the hills standing and valleys lying hear
Of my strange love song for you dearest one!
Ladawa is a made up name.