Poem III

Of all the creatures in the world there is one which is the most confusing. She is the last of God’s creatures. She can do at once what three men can. She is the weaker vessel. She is strong willed, “her desire will be for her husband.” She is at once beautiful and terrible. She will win any fight, even when she is wrong. Hell hath no fury like her scorned. She communicates even when she is not speaking. She expects you to understand. She can be a dripping faucet. La Donna é Mobile.

But oh she is the most wonderful of creatures. She answered the call when we were not meant to be alone. She will be loved. She is the helpmate. She is the jewel in the crown, the apple in the eye, she is the neck. She leaves me bewildered. Where would we be without her? I’ll tell you. Nowhere. Without her, our Creator would be a bit of a nihilist. Who wants that? Not I. Without who crushes the serpents head?

Her nature is cryptic. Alone she merely is. Only once she is loved does she truly become lovely. She has a reason to live. Without her we have naught to defend. We exist for her. She exist for us. What are we without her? Why else would we slay dragons?

She is lovely. She tames the beast. She is Woman.