Shades of Cleopatra,
Nabila, Mistress of the Nile,
Sultry beauty of the past,
Part woman and part child.

Unconscious of her loveliness,
Of her perfect sculptured face,
Her naive sophistication,
An honest gift of grace.

Her olive skin and coal black hair,
All part of her distinction,
Her snapping eyes of emerald green,
Complete her composition.

A pleasure just to watch her move,
As she goes about the room,
Like a flower in a breeze,
A gently swaying bloom.

Ordinary motion,
For her, a graceful dance.
She doesn't turn; she pirouettes,
She walks in elegance.

A quiet soul, remote, reserved,
A charming shyness to her.
But beauty does declare itself,
And accolades do find her.

A noble name, Nabila,
Melodic, pleasing, rare,
As fitting for this lady,
As perfume is to air.

Her portrait on a wall
Would so enhance a place,
Imagine - awakening each day
To the beauty of her face.

But alas, no artist good enough
To capture such a smile,
How could one paint a trembling lip,
Or expose a lady's guile?

Why God designed this creature,
I think I understand,
He placed the need of beauty
Into the heart of man.

Nabila, I would swear my love,
And beg your crumbs on bended knee,
But I cannot; I know my lot,
Never will you belong to me.

Your roots so deep, your past so vast,
So long ago God made you,
Nile-baptized, immortalized,
Now, only God can claim you.

Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright June 2003 ~ July 2008


 




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