She Poem by Nero CaroZiv

She



She never left the comfortableness of forty plus
Although her look is progressing to the point of collapse
Sometimes she may be seen in a dark cafe or flickering bars
Legs crossed; top buttons loose to announce the world her love scars

Some men of the past; some more than few
Knew her under better skies hue
To call themselves the noble term husband
But they all disappeared the relationships did not stand

Especially to one lover she is gone, the cruel fair;
For him she cast not back a look of pitying eye:
But left her lover to sink in desolate despair
To sigh, to languish, like a flower to wilt and to die:
Ah! how can those fair eyes endure
To give the wounds they will not cure?

To him she was the great Goddess of love that made
A face that can all hearts control and command
That all religions and cultures can invade
And easily change and reverse every law of the land
Where has such power been placed before
She should have mercy on him the more

Now lonely and lovely she is strolling in the market place
Carrying a basket of fashion to emphasize her waning grace
And still she steals whistles and shrieks from creatures standing by
Which she absorb in hidden content and with victorious sigh


Upon her head she wares a hat with a modest wreath
From whence her veil reaches to the side walk beneath
No one can tell her veil is artificial flowers or genuine leaves
Whose craftsmen either way left all beguiled by a total deceive

Many will praise the sweet smell as she passes
Is it her natural scent, a perfume, or her breath she casts
A kind of smell that the honey bee seek in vain
They would pursue it in high winds and tumultuous rain

About her chest hangs chain of crafted pebblestone
which is lightened by her neck like diamonds are shone
She never wares gloves, for neither sun nor wind
would burn or parch such skin on hands that make birds sing

What is her substance, from which she is made
that millions of strange shadow hues on her tend
Since everyone reflects one and only one shade
But she? She can every shadow of the rainbow lend

There are those who were lucky to observe her from close
To see a beauty beauteous framed in web of winkles and lines
As if by now is spared and skipped by years and by time
This beauty is preserved as in a book rests an eternal rose


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