Woman Poem
By sweetbrother
She adjusts my new jacket in a bright color she knew I would never choose she says "Here's a nice new look for you." Woman remakes me into an image of her own choice melting me in her fire until I am beatiful and new Woman is a storm blowing me from home to Oz sending me flying over the hills and rivers of my past to a future of her choice Woman cradles me in her warmth like a precious thing to call her own When she speaks, I answer softly, humbly; where she leads me, I will always follow because she promises heaven at the end of her road And at night, though I am not with her, she watches me, keep me safe and warm Like flowers bend their heads to seek the sun I turned my face toward the light and heat of woman. Written December 9th, 2001 © on Dec 09 2001 06:03 AM PST 10 • 0
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"She adjusts my new jacket..."