Aziza

Always smells of spotlessness,
soap
(jasmine-flavoured);
Skin,
sagging, yet smooth;
Skin-tone,
snowy,
something in that glow making me think of cold nights,
(the cozy kind)
snuggles at early hours among stainless sheets.

Seldom do you see that,
so silent, but the
sensation of their presence,
so...strong.
She may not say much, but
she's our bed-rock,
starting-point,
seed and stem.

Soothing it is,
your serenity
(it hit me most that day at the ICU)
sitting in all your splendour
self-composure in a room of chaos
slight smile

Steady,
unshaken,
(it may have been many years since
you made even snakes
slither away, but)
sheltered is our place for you
spoken in your name
Aziza, treasured one,
forever our sovereign.