Alhaja Oh Alhaja, what a funny girl;
Her eyes as black as her hair; her mane of dark curls,
As quickly as the boys to her turned,
So quickly their hearts began to burn,
Their love grew deep as her father’s well;
And closer they looked, the deeper they fell.
Her hips swooned from side to side,
From within her loose clothes,
Like an oscillator between bars.
Her principle was never to show; the mystery would tell,
And engrossed in the mystery the boys were, and so deeper they fell.
And they would ask why they couldn’t touch.
She’d say that her religion didn’t permit such,
But you know boys wouldn’t regard her words much,
So she knew to yell and beat their hands if they did touch.
“OK, why do you cover your hair when you dress up in the morning?”
“When will you thirsty men stop mindlessly swarming
Around girls for their bodies when you know their hearts are still forming?”
And the guilty boy would keep shut,
Because he recognizes the wounds in her, that men have cut.
But no matter how Alhaja said she would never fall for us common boys,
Her heart cried out to mine through the noise,
Her eyes spoke volumes, her smile a whole lot.
Her words were loud, her actions were not.
Ironic that in physics class she was trying to solve the bad chemistry between us,
But I was rather in love with her tanned skin, which to her, was a curse.
But in time she started to dislike me,
It was obvious she was disappointed at me thinking all along that I was a G.