A woman, through a man’s eye, should be seen as a flower.
Like a flower, a woman bears grace and various beauties.
The kind wind breathes into them life and delicate splendor.
A woman hides her pride and a flower keeps its duties.

They are rather chiefs of their jobs and champion of their games.
Both influence, by respects, the entirety of the earth.
Better than trophies in shelves and certificates in frames:
They are gifts from God; breathes life- one’s of man’s rib-within dirt.

So, with that, such creation would draw love under man’s gaze-
Love that would urge a man to have possession of such jewel.
But, pick a flower and it will die, in either ways
And she will cease to be what he loves, and him, as luck’s fool

Love, for women or for all, is not about possession,
To who or what- Love must be about appreciation