Who can tame a woman's heart?
Not even she who owns it.
The Fates may see that love will be,
but nobody controls it.
Pegasus to Hercules,
her emotions to her heart,
will fly or walk where her heart
please,
direction abstract art.
Heart memories are feelings,
not facts, or dates, or details.
Bad builds stiff, thick wall linings,
but with good her hope prevails.
Tucked away, held close inside,
a woman's heart is wild,
guarded, open, ardent, sure,
and still it does beguile.
by: Paula D. Nevison
No comments:
Post a Comment
I moderate comments only to keep fools from gumming up my pages with repetitive idiotic spam.
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.