Sunday, March 6, 2011


In His wisdom
God has made us men of clay
In such a way
That we divine a thrill of sorts
From each new woman
Whom we encounter.

Whether it be sourced
In dark, come hither eyes,
Or a rounded pout
That emits a laughing voice,
Or locks of many colors
Caressing a beguiling face,
Or curves and shapes
That bounce and flounce,
Or wit that moves us
To wonder about our world.
All these marvels
Can call that thrill
To come and make us
Slaves to wants and needs.

And yet it seems so odd
That, once in a while,
One woman comes along
Who presents us with
That pleasing prod
And puzzling power
That makes more thrills
Than we can handle.
One woman – not perfect –
But lit by her own bright candle
And holding the keys –
Not to paradise –
But to a garden
Just beside its gates.
And, as we revel in its shade,
Then rest in its soft cool breeze,
We come to know
That God is truly wise.

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