Her genre,
Honorable.
Her design,
Respected.
Her character,
Dignified.
Her pages,
Well lettered.
Her story,
Unread.
Like a book, mesmerising,
Yet too often judged by her cover.

She was praised for being silent
Dismissed for speaking out loud
She was living in a woman's world
Where her chances of being heard
Would only happen if she spoke up

Her voice was soft but certainly not brittle
Sounding just like the rain
But her words strike like thunder
Ominous and commanding
That carry a weight no man could ever lift

Her face resembled that of an angel
But she raised hell like the devil
Her ancestors' wildest dreams
A plum blossom in late winter
Blooming in adversity
Unyielding to the patriarchy

But men will try to rein her in
To contain the fire she possesses
But she was never under their control
Ferocious as a dragon, freedom to roam
Burning all their limitations

A precious gift from heaven
But your worst nightmare from hell
She is a woman, all in one
Who has come into her own
And she won't ever let you forget