Wednesday, June 21, 2006-5:06AM
She’s almost confident but still a little awkward but she’ll find the woman she was created to be. The poem is an old one, a re-post but I liked it for this piece. It’s another PC drawn image.
A Woman
The Paris sunset that finds itself in the center of every love story
An early morning of fog that holds extra long above the lake
The soft fall of snowflakes that disappear on a windowpane
Can never contest the joy in a mother’s heart when a newborn opens her eyes
And with tears announces herself to the world.
There is no shine like her smile.
There is no greater bond than mother and baby
And no greater gift than passing along life
Her tiny fingers grasp this thing called life and hold it in confidence.
She drinks a child’s milk and slowly grows to hold
the silver goblet of liberty
This young one will drink a sour wine, a taste she does not know
But passing the spring of youth, to sweet womanhood she will grow.
This tiny flower blossoms,
Transforming from pink to scarlet red
With a tip of white innocence that will never fade
She will make since of the stars and their constellations
She’ll move with the waves and bend with the strongest of trees
A woman is what she will be.
Freeman of
Morton’s Pride
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