Beauty
Gray doves string the line like pearls,
iridescence shimmering,
necklace for the morning sun
still pale in dawn’s first glimmering.
Her shoulders bare above green lace
where tree leaves interweaving
strike intricate patterns for a gown
befitting queenly wearing.
Although she reigns supremely,
earth’s myriad creatures bowing;
in climates temperate or tropical
dawn seems to be her finest hour.
Her blushing face reflecting
in the mirrored calm of lake;
her eyes demurely reticent.
Her beauty makes my poor heart ache.
May 10, 2022
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2022
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