she succumbs to her own beauty the way one yields to awesome fate and carries it like an accidental gem that she has to learn not to worship
to watch her you'd think it hurt for sure with no conceited smile for good measure her true asernal before which suitors wilt is the stoicism of her serene countenance
she lends credence to roadside philosophies based on the assertion that beauty and grace are accidents of biology and heritage and takes no credit for such accomplishments
a woman is beautiful even when the straits are dire and days are darkest in the most depraved of places she weeps silent tears when her children are hungry and they gorge themselves on her loveliness and sleep
tomorrow being another day she struggles anew and conquers hard reality with feminine creativity and no matter how hard ill-fortune lacerates her her delectable contours and carriage still shine through
she has no false pride though she's a pearl of great value and is forever the stoic beauty driven by the calmness of the aesthetic tremours of her bewitching gait in the shadow of a moon rising on the horizon