Is This Niagaras Face

Is This Niagara’s Face Her love does fall, With all freedom, She sends her call. To create such amazing displays Of honor and trust always. Her groans of displacement Sent on there own way, Never with the sounds of dismay. Tears of honesty garnish my face As early morning dew laden with grace Splattered across the peddles Of a premature bloom, Glistening throughout the room. Her continuous crying filters the air. So fresh and so clean, Like gentleman of old, So debonair! If there is a smell, It is those of warm wet stones Atop a well. So sweet in the nose Like magnificent tones from a falling bell, It rings so well Clouds of water adrift in the air, Lighter then can be compared. A glorious display Of emotions all day, Her splash’s do play Like that of tides in a old bay. This is a description of a place Something I feel is niagara’s face. Not to take away But I have never seen her face. Not even in this way! By Desi E. Sherman