All About Her Poem by Wayne Sowell

I can not say
That she walks in beauty
Another poet
Has captured another woman with this line.
If beauty only walks
She rides in wild abandonment
Upon a steed of her choosing
More like the wind
More than beautiful in the sun.


I can not compare her
To a Summer's day
Another poet
Has taken another lady with this sonnet.
Summer only held the day
It did not see it play.
She practices at being a woman
To learn how to be a girl.
She grew up; and stayed young forever.

How do I love her?
I can not presume to count the ways.
Another poet
Has done the mathematical figuring.
She holds the theory of chaos numbered and at bay
She counted only the roses of yesterday
And subtracted the thorns no tomorrow would bring
She multiplied the fragrances
And added day by day to Nature's perfumed array.

I can
To Shannon say things:
All about her, all to her, all for her, and only her
In my little amount of unpolished speaking
The Southern accent comes out to utter with a slight stutter...
I could bend lower than the stars beneath her feet
And pick her a strawberry or two in the wild fields of desire
And present the fruit to her
And in our nakedness
We would never have to fall in the Orchard of Eden.
We held the pine trees and dark
Where no serpent of the ground ever left his mark.