Though still buried deep within her frosty bed
Her Blankets laid deep and high above her head
I could feel her stir beneath the gaze
Of her lovers warm and tempting praise
Still lying in the place where dreams are worn
Healing the wounds made by hate and scorn
His soothing touch reminds her of when
Their love was celebrated in the hearts of men
And soon she'll rise and try again
To waken the wisdom that we knew then
Before we began to practice that dark art
That wounds her body and breaks her heart
Reminding us that we can learn
To cherish the the love we didn't earn
By treating her with truth and grace
As we wait for her to turn her face.
Spectacularly presented........................enjoyed it....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks God for his grace, by which we can learn To cherish the love we didn't earn! Nice work, Lynn!