She dances in a field of tiger lilies
Orange and gold stripes reflect from dew
Prowling and powerful
lightfooted as a breeze
She wages quiet wars with Him
whose power comes from anger
while hers comes from passion
He seeks obedience
from his docile, dancing lily
She seeks the seafoam waves
that come with liberation
His garden is thorny
His roses are prideful
He holds bated breaths
What could stall her arrival?
He scoffs at her liberty
as she plucks a thorn from her feet
and shoves it down his throat