Woman

Every so often I am asked a question,
whose answer will always remain a mystery.
But this cold winter evening I dare to attempt,
to explain a creation called woman.
Just like a river that gurgles and giggles on it's way from the mountains,
and attains a poised elegance as she flows through the plains,
a woman is the same embodiment of that grace.
She has the capacity to lift the spirits of wearied hearts,
as she steps into a bus or as she walks with abandon on the streets.
If a smile escapes her face, it lights the faces of many.
When alone, she is the dainty rose that adorns the vase,
In the garden of people, she is the daisy, the lily, the orchid, the tulip
She can turn men with hearts of stone,
into poets they never thought they could be.
She is humanity's everlasting symbol of hope, beauty, love.....
I could ramble on, and winter would be past us,
And the birds of spring would soon be chirping for her at her window
The world outside beckons me and as I bring an end to the words I write,
I can only hope I have done justice to the woman in this poem,
The woman in this poem that is you.