Oh But When the Flower Birthed You
Oh but when the flower birthed you,
Did she know you would turn into this Venus?
Your grace is the gift that sits on your face,
What spell, what charm, what incantation,
Do you hind beneath your palms
That even the stars shine down only on
You the moment you exit your home?
Oh and your words, your words
Poetry that would shame even the
Pens of bards who have crafted
Many lyrics of immortal existence,
Look now to your hands, your hands
Like gliding branches waving the wind away
And where to start with those eyes
It is not fire the burns in them,
Neither is it the shine of the lodestars
Oh no they are more than that
They dream even in daylight
Make this earth seems like it
Has a new wonder to celebrate.
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