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Madame Fury
The Sun
Has dropped
Her lawsuit
And settled with the Moon

Tomorrow
She'll pique and threaten
Once more
Nature, time and patience.
25/82021
Sweet little flower, take my song
Go and tell her how beautiful she is
How sweet and fair she seems to be
When i resemble her to you.

Tell her how young she is
How fertile and strong.
In the day she shines just like you
In the dawn, she cast the smell
Of her sweet perfume.

She captures the heart of many
With the face that wore a rosy cheek;
A coral lip displaying an alluring smile.

But Oh little flower,
Tell her how small is the worth
Of beauty if light retired
And if one losses its soul
What gain does she have?

Then die! that she
The common fate of mankind
Oh little flower,
tell her how small is the worth;

Oh little girl, hear my song,
Let the wind of dawn blow away the empty pride
For mortal beauty will fade away
But spiritual beauty is endless.
Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised.
PROVERBS 31:30
I hear the wind
whipping through the freshly-leafed elm
its long sonorous undulating chord
is as light as sunbeams
as alive as the spring saps
rushing wildly up the redbud and pear
eager to burst out of their limbs
into green glory.
A bank of fog
lays snugly upon the river
like a soft white halo
kissing the morning hello.
Fog is one of the Creator’s gentle gifts to poets. It never fails to inspire me.
Piano and violins
in the hands of artists
string me along
in a peaceful stream of joy
their delicate threads
wrapped around my heart
on a gray morning
to quince my loneliness.
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