Woman.

by Keith Robson.
(England.)

She’s a smile in the rain, she’s the sun on the rise

She’s a heavenly angel in mortal disguise,
She is birdsong on evenings when time is stood still
She is sacred and pure, like a prayer on a hill,
She bears wisdom and patience of every degree
And her thoughts reach much further than eyesight can see,
She’s the stillness of dawn and the first breath of day
And her kiss takes the pain of her children away.


She bears loads with the ease of a whispering breeze
And she’s so aware of the moments to seize
From the mixture of life she is moulded and cast
Like a pure figurine of her future and past,
She touches the air with such delicacy
That there’s barely a ripple upon life’s tired sea,
And she sleeps on a ribbon of silken refrain
Like a song in the night that drifts closer again.


She bears tears with the grace of a silver soft stream
And her soul holds much more that a wish and a dream,
She is wondrous contentment and happiness plied
In her everything lives, and no good things have died,
In her heart there’s no room for dark negative thought
It’s a butterfly Dream Catcher heaven has wrought
And the smile in her eyes drifting gently above
Is a mirror reflecting a woman of love…

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