She rises each day
From the foamy sway of fanciful dreams,
To fill the moments ahead
With the colours she has picked.
She flies across the vacant skies,
Lifting stars from here and there
To light up the dreary spaces
That dot the world around.
What the gods may have thought,
When they carved her very being.
Was she to be a little more
Than the man who walks beside ?
For new life breathes through her,
Like the sunlight that squeezes through
The broken night.
Or perhaps not –
For she does not don the cape he does.
She doesn’t rule the world
The way he does.
And yet she reigns
In ways unknown,
Tossing away the shards that cut our feet.
She hums a tune of hope
When despair seers through the heart.
She is a woman, supreme and whole :
A being beyond compare.