The Girl By The Riverbank.

Credit: Canvas by Stephen Allen retrieved from Google search.

I’m amazed!

Amazed by the strength of her character, the majesty of her melanin, and the magnificence of her soul. Her smile is like sunshine, blessing my dull life with the arrays of hope. Her touch is like a shining star, ‘twinkling’ my little heart and bringing so much joy to my troubled soul.

When it first started, she held my hand and caressed it; I looked at her face and kissed it. She said she loved what she was feeling; I said I loved what I was touching.

She wanted to get into my world; I told her, “you already have the keys.” She walked into it, majestically; I welcomed her, proudly. She liked the craziness of it all: the blue sky, the little hills, the singing birds, and, most importantly, the flowing river in the middle of the jungle. I loved the strength of her strong soul: her charm, her ambitions, and her courage.

Oh, yeah, thy little birds started singing, glorifying the excellence of her beauty. And, yes, them monkeys, too, started clapping, welcoming her majesty the queen.

I held her hand passionately while all of this was happening. She embraced the propitious show and leaned on my hand affectionately.

She said she had never felt like this before; I said, “I have never met someone like you beforehand.” And then, boom, the ‘befores’ stimulated the serotonin, which rushed in our bodies like never before.

Like never before, again, like never before, I said, have I ever met a wonderful girl like you. And then she came close and looked at my lips, and wanted to touch them with her tongue. I looked at her back and whispered into her ear to not do that in a moment.

She seemed disappointed, but she put a cute, ostentatious smile on her face. I liked how calming her smile was and couldn’t resist pulling her tightly closer and tasting the taste of her taste buds.

With her eyes closed, she blew my mind away with her kiss. With my hands on her waist, I sucked every bit of her soul off.

The sound of the waterfalls from the river in the middle of the jungle was music to our ears. And, splendidly, my fingers were scanning her smooth, black skin like a maestro playing a magnificent piano.

She then opened her angelic eyes and gave me a prophetic laugh. I opened mine and gave her a flirtatious smile.

She said she loved everything about my world and that she would love to catch a big fish with me from the river the following day. I said I would love to fish the big fish and even to ‘catch’ her forever whenever she feels like falling.

“We will meet by the riverbank,” she said. “By the riverbank, I will be there for you,” she promised me.

But, sadly, it has been days without seeing her. The riverbank has become my home days and nights for the hope of seeing her.

Fishing with her was the plan, the plan that has not come to reality. The ‘plan’ that, presumably, is passing away like a passing wind.

The girl by the riverbank… I’m still hopeful that you will show up, and that’s why I’m still waiting.

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Siegfred Madeghe

Believer of God through Jesus Christ | Computer Engineer | Pan-Africanist, Relativist, and Socratic