On the beach, on the coast,
Under the idle, whispering coconut towers,
Before the growling, foaming, waves,
I met a thief, who guessed I had
An innocent heart for her to steal.
She took my hand and led me under
The intimate cashew boughs which shaded
The downy grass and peeping weeds.
She jumped and plucked the nuts for me to suck;
She sang and laughed and pressed close.
I gazed: her hair was like the wool of a mountain sheep,
Her eyes, a pair of brown-black beans floating in milk.
Juicy and round as plantation shoots
Her legs, arms and neck;
And like wine-gourds her pillowy breasts;
Her throat uttered fresh banana juice:
Matching her face-smooth and banana-ripe.
I touched- but long before I had even tasted,
My heart had flowed from me into her breast;
And the she went – high and South-
And left my carcass roasting in the fire she'd lit.