The Goddess In Each

Where her heels lift, with the ground kiss, there bloom wild daisies. When her lips open, birds ruffle bloatin' and prepare to chorus. What crossed her touch left the larva to wings and discovered its reach. She carries a wand, blossoms to give life, to song birds and men. Women are left to wonder what makes her brighter as if it were to see. Men are left in wonder over their own measure and why that'd be. She is but the owner of her own breeze design and rhythmic steps. Will measure to none, while nodding to praise, and ignoring the knifes. No contour is fairer nor is it more than skin we are all born with. The goddess in each howling to be unleashed from the mirror we perceive.