With lissome walk,
delicate, yet strong
on Earth, an angel, or a devil;
what ever serves her most.
With a mother's girth,
beyond her worth,
a lover whom's laughter's so free,
and still filled of desire, of heat.
Cloaked in mystery, creation;
dusky delight, in pleasure soaked.
With a pliant breast, yet iron will;
sweet ferocity of nature's evoked.
A man's mate by heaven,
guardian of man's soul
God's gift to make man whole;
giver of life and love,
vessel to nature's goal.
With honeyed lips
she inspires, cajoles, dares;
to anchor his worst, with his best.
She has the keys to his secrets,
his fears;
then creates his haven of peace,
of rest.
A woman, that's what she is;
our bearer of pure strength.
The envy of many...
Who is she?
A woman.
And also,
a lady.
Adding your comment:
