She Sits With Beauty
She sits with beauty watching
the sunrise leisurely through her window,
The beams shining on her
delicate pale skin, warming her with joy.
The joyous spirit of the
moment carries her to heights of perseverance.
Illuminating splendor she can
capture only through serene calmness.
She sits with beauty in her
special chair on the fresh-cut green grass,
Reading a book of love and
romance that strengthens her spirit to soar high.
As the warm, quiet breeze
softly blows her hair aside and revealing her ears,
Whispering a melody of music
in her ears, securing her sanctuary indefinitely.
She sits with beauty and
sense of self that remains innocent, pure, and unbroken.
Resting her worries, eluding
all thoughts to unburden her disposition, to escape away,
To a secret place so fragile
and untainted, cherished possession of mind and spirit.
Where a dream, a hope, an
idea, a passion for love can survive all circumstances.
She sits with beauty as the
warm sun fades into the fresh yellow moon.
Rendering to the nightfall,
she coerces herself to enter the place she claims as home.
Lying upon fresh, soft sheets
and relaxing her head against the feathery pillow,
Respectfully waiting a new
dawn with a peaceful smile, she drifts off to sleep.
Amy Elizabeth
Thomas
April 25, 2001
Copyright ©2001
