She Is

She's the power of the sunlight

The mystery of night

She's the softness of a butterfly

On flower after flight.

She's the fluid coursing through my veins

The holder of my reins,

She's the medicine that eases

All the torment and the pains.

Yet the metaphors are weak

When it is of her I speak

For the beauty's clearly seen

That is this humble woman meek.

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Melissa Rives's picture

I see no weak metaphors here. This is very lyrical to me...I hear nature's subtle sounds throughout. A very lovely poem...eloquently spoken.