Praise of a Woman

Many a man

Nothing in idea

But eloquent in words

Has court and won

That perfect shape

And they are known

That perfect shape

Raises the lowly

And gives succor

To the lost

She is the most

To be desired

Above rupees or ruby

Above the mountains

Or the best position

She is a muse

To feel all night

A friend to laugh out with

A travelling companion

Through existence

Of uncertain outcome

She is a wiz

In making clay

To perfect replica

She is fragile

But her pain reach

Is beyond life

She has a curve

Full with circles

Soft part in roundness

Magical eyes with lashes

Full lips with red.

Her fondling tingles

With moaning glow

She is wisdom

In fifty greys

Her every touch

Is Midas in all

If you find her

Remember to remember

Her stay is soon mundane

Save yourself

From such curse

For if she is gone

So is everything she brings.

By Minstrel

Loves writing...

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *