her words fall with soft caress
from lips that breathe benevolence
breathes short - in hesitation

which call to memory
the lulls of warm maternity

or the curl of a mate by a fireplace
acceptance, no true negation -
she's prime for idealization.

yes, for her, this archetype,
roses - more than aprons,
or coddling, caring things that mothers do -
but jewels and diamonds too,
sparkling, like her calm eyes

eyes, which glance like ice
reflecting stars and clear anticipation -
her sight which falls on paths untasted,
yet sight held guarded, all her own

eyes, whose glass reveals inside
a fortress, mountain hollows -
depths and echos, never touched
by ears of travellers lost, and left
grasping through the dark

intricacy and solitude,
and cosmos held inside
grasped - in hesitation