For A Lady In Oz Poem by Shawn Greyling

A flower,
not born by months of the year
but by the artistry of paint and soul.
She struts tall like a sunflower leaning towards the sun,
the sun which she sees half full and never empty.

By night she calls the songs of the siren Muse
which lingers like wine upon the tongue.
Her blonde beauty tonight shines
like words of Tolstoy upon the flower of the mind.

A worded mystery, she dances across the sea
to a world where life shines as her spirit soars.
May the road rise to meet her
and her beauty always comfort
'til we meet again.