A garden it is, be it trimmed and its fountain hinges greased or the garden lined with shrubs and shriveled petals.
It is a garden with its fountain within; tend it right, it’d gush at your touch.
Its entrance is the exit of another entity. Its fountain has brought mighty men to their knees, shaken with stupor. Its fruit has fed and bewitched many.
Make my garden your sanctuary.
Monaleesaah is a black skinny writer and singer, who can be a substitute therapist, and can be baited and thus kidnapped with pounded yam.
P.s she loves, white, black and grey