A Thing Of Bliss... Poem by Nestor David Armas

It's her most precious possession;

Bordering on obsession,

It fills her with pride;

As she walks she seems to glide,

As if on a bed of sunrise;

It goes with her every guise,

A bare essential;

It causes her joy exponential,

And with a snap of her fingers;

You'd think a flash mob of singers,

Would appear to convey;

How this is her way,

The little things that make her;

Like a tiger is known for its fur,

But it may as well be her lure;

Example of what she could procure,

From the very nothing of blue;

A flower; a necklace; a shoe,

Extraordinary trimmings;

Assortment of playthings,

To make wonder and inquisition of her,

But you should know for sure;

You'll never be for her this;

A thing of cool; a thing of bliss...

(05/01/2010)