Poetess

A poetess is a unique creation
Full of love, passion, and beauty through composition
Her heart mirrors, the love she sees
And, in her depths holds it tenderly.

She is a seed, blown and thrashed
Upon this earth, until taken in
By Mother’s fertile warmth
Accepted and blanketed in her love.

The poetess, a girl, possesses expanses of hope
That blows freely within her dreams.
For if there are no dreams, then how can visions
Became pathways to possibilities, it is the form of how
That time reveals within her.

Once planted, the poetess, is mother’s flower
Quiet and silent, she spreads her leaves
Longing for the sun and kisses of the wind
Delicate and vulnerable she is exposed to all elements.

Will the rains bless her and quench her need?
Will the trees protect her, from forcing gales of change?
Or, with shade when heat is unfit for frailty attempting to bloom?

She is like no other, flower, plant, or tree
She was made and rooted, by Mother
So, if she possesses thorns…just touch her gently
And, in your hands she will love you sweetly.