A Woman is a Creature of Divine Paradox

A woman is a creature of divine paradox

The way she walks and the whole room does shine.

I clean an alter as I remove her socks

She is a sacrament for which I pine.

Her face - the gods made one of their very own

Her mind - the devil dares not to argue with it

Her voice - the sweetest with its lilts and tones

Her body - as warm as a fire that is fresh lit

She brims with youth and girlish charm, I rapture

She knows what she wants from herself and life.

Melancholy am I, it is impossible to capture

Her soul, her body, and all of her - my strife.

I thank my G-d for her beauty and drive

She’s free, if owned she would be half alive.