Shades of imperfection

 

Silky skin,

Seductive gaze,

Beautiful smile,

A demeanor that knows no laze.

 

No such thing as a perfect woman;

she is a shade of imperfection:

Thunder thighs,

Lightning from Heaven's gate.

 

A delicate doll,

Trapped in a polite phrase —

A whimsical, roaring storm

Refusing standard praise.

 

Prim and composed,

Walking in neat displays —

A whimsical, erratic soul

Untamed in all her ways.

 

A fragile, bending reed,

Surrendering to timid ways —

Submissive only in her calm,

An anchor through the stormy days

 

A restless storm of shifting winds,

That breaks apart conventional praise —

Yet yields her crown by choice alone,

Unbowed, but soft in devotion's blaze.