The Barbadian Queen
Her name was unknown; she was no clone
At lunch that day, they met when she sat down beside him.
On purpose, by accident, innocence?
He could not tell.
What should he ask her?
What was she looking for?
She had the prettiest brown eyes that saw him.
Lashes so long and straight, with beautiful lips that longed to be kissed.
A voice with the sound …
The scent of the smell of fresh roses clipped.
A ‘Black Beauty Queen’ in disguise, indeed she was.
“Maybe it’s me – just lost in lust.”
When she walked past him the other day.
His mind was poised, brain in a daze.
The way she looked, so quiet and innocent.
But her eyes need not lie.
Betrayed was the look of Independence, Power, and Boldness.
But that is okay.
Asking where from, She replies, “New Mexico.”
As an Islander, new to the USA, her answer seemed strange to him.
A Cocoa Black Queen?
From this place never seen.
Nothing is indicating that he should follow.
A sad day was just what he needed.
He heard fear in his ears laughing,
“Mr. Too Late.”
“You may never get this chance again.”
“To be this close to sweet, “Dark Chocolate…”
He did not even ask her name!
What had gotten into him?
“Why won’t it flee, this sin?”
He prayed.
He was too afraid.
In her glorious presence, he felt low, like a servant.
A servant compared to such a Queen of Beauty.
It was fear that overshadowed him.
Fear, like dark clouds, threatening a rainy day.
Whenever she’d walk past today.
He would bow, hiding his face, looking the other way.
She is now lost forever, and so is what could have been.
Will they ever bump into each other?
Get that close again?
— © 2002, Nelly Vee
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Author
Nelly Vee
Nelly Vee, Founder & CEO of KVI Network Creations, author, poet, and graduate with a Bachelor of Theology and a BS in Leadership & Organizational Management.
When I wrote this piece back in 2002, while stationed in Kuwait, I was processing a moment that felt both intimate and significant. I met a woman—an incredible U.S. Marine—whose presence left a lasting impression on me. She wasn’t just physically beautiful with her dark chocolate skin and captivating eyes, but her quiet strength and confidence intrigued me in ways I couldn’t fully grasp. What struck me even more was learning that she was born and raised in Barbados, but had joined the Marines and now called New Mexico home. When she sat beside me at lunch, I felt this strange combination of awe and fear, unsure how to approach her, what to say, or what I even wanted from the encounter. Her response, “New Mexico,” felt foreign to me as an islander, and in that instant, I let fear take over. I couldn’t ask her name, couldn’t break past my insecurities to form a real connection, and in doing so, I let the moment slip away. The regret of not acting stayed with me long after, and I wrote this piece to reflect on how fear had kept me from seizing an opportunity. It became a way to process the “what ifs” and to realize that sometimes the biggest obstacle between us and what we want is our own fear of rejection. Writing it was my attempt to come to terms with that missed chance, to understand how those moments, once lost, stay with us, haunting us in ways we can’t shake.