She walks the street of the misty Lagos with no feel of moral values and sense of sensitivity to societies  claws. She calls your name with so much love. The lux in her voice It transcends all your senses. Her swift sway of the hips almost drawing your soul into her well decorated body with scented perfumes and expensive creams that make her brown skin glow in the twilight of brown road and the covers of the wings of Victoria Island. She knows not where she comes from nor what the night of tomorrow holds for her. She ventures into a new world of the unknown not knowing what tomorrow’s darkness holds for her but yet she blocks every emotion, every thing that makes her human and dives into the deep blue sea of the night without oxygen. She believes in the kindness of strangers. In the negotiations of taxi men. And In the blockage of her heart to love. Society calls her rude names. Abolishes her from the world. Makes her an outcast. Disrespects her will of choice. But I call her woman. I call her brave. I call her daring. I call her faithful. I call her the controller of the night. She has chosen this path and this path she shall walk weather to damnation or bliss I cannot tell. But what I know is that at nights like this is when the moon is at its silent and the starts are at the brightness she looks up to the heavens and hopes for a better tomorrow