My friend’s poetry!

Scheherazade

With her raven black hair,
She tells the tales
Of many men
That left her to wail
Of strange bazaars
And rotten guitars
Scheherazade smiles despite her mars

Whose eyes could be so beautiful and so free?
Whose ears could hear
The twig snap
In the furthest corners of
What you thought
Were the darkest hollows
Of your heart

She listens more than she does tell
All the while
You are in love with her, pell-mell
And Scheherazade simply sits, draped amply across a chair
With a knowing smile
Upon her mein,
A twinkle in her eyes, you may glean,
If you lean in and listen deeply,
Inhale the stories
She has kept
Like burning incense
In a forest fire
You must detect
The tales of love
She tells
For they are for you
And your ears alone

Were you worried?
She says, as she knowingly sidles up to you.
I’ve loved you,
Just as you’ve loved me too!
As the Moon and stars
Begin to melt
She reminds you
that she still remains there.

~NF (Nathan Fernandez)