Oh But When the Flower Birthed You

Oh but when the flower birthed you, Did she know you would turn into this Venus? Your grace is the gift that sits on your face, What spell, what charm, what incantation, Do you hind beneath your palms That even the stars shine down only on You the moment you exit your home? Oh and your words, your words Poetry that would shame even the Pens of bards who have crafted Many lyrics of immortal existence, Look now to your hands, your hands Like gliding branches waving the wind away And where to start with those eyes It is not fire the burns in them, Neither is it the shine of the lodestars Oh no they are more than that They dream even in daylight Make this earth seems like it Has a new wonder to celebrate.