Brass and crass,
But a sculpted beauty
Is how she is
When she comes to me
I’ve touched her in ways
That she’s never known
And when she plays
She’s a child ungrown
Toughness born of need
Covers a softer core
And there she finds
That she’s so much more
Something that she
Never thought could be
And inner beauty
Is at last set free
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem