We have seen the might
And the power of a saturn 5 rocket as it
Claws its way skywards
On a plume of noise and flame and fury
And this is the image we conjure when we
Are presented the concept of rocket,
Or flight,
Or heavenward high attainment,
Yet I know one who flies just as high,
Whose glance,
Let alone whose direct look,
Has the power of a thouand thousand suns
And the intense draw
Or magnetism even of a dozen
Deep black holes
In their wells
Yet she is truly petite,
One may almsot say too tiny,
She makes those of us of barn door
Frame feel truly lumpsome and
Gross by comparison,
Yet she whizzes and fizzes and
Percolates and pops,
Her path is as of rainbows
I am sure I felt the touch of
An Angel wing when she passed
Close by and yet
I see also deep naughtiness
Held firm in check,
Perhaps indeed there are horns
Beneath her dark dark hair
But it is those wings
Which explain the rocket
And the petite and the horns in balance with the good
That quicken the heart of all that
Meet her
Leaving us all just a little exhausted
Yet wearing a great
Big
Smile...
