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She hath won
November 26, 2013
One can not compare,
the beauty in her stare,
or when she ponders,
deep in wonder,
do I look,
for God is the penman, and she the book,
from a seed planted by nature,
and love it's nurture,
does she grow,
into a woman whose grace glitters like snow,
red torches blaze her face,
while eyes of night take their place, even more she grows,
with each new feature my heart goes,
she is a thief that came at the hours past,
who stole my heart oh so fast,
only enough time to think but one, this beauty has me, she hath won.
© Melanie M., Hendersonville, TN
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