Women Poem by James McLain

To know from youth, that special
some thing behind the shade I hid.
That child fit so snugly between them,
effortless those hands open always.

Spring brought new smells, growing as I
noticed the different flowers, now calling
my nose, eyes and now in my gental hands.

Some how the clothing makes me different
that they wear, like a map always changing.
Small countries now bigger, growing in ways.

Now I burn from things they say and say not,
that bosom of safty now high mountains to me.
The ice cold streams make the fire worse, as I
lunge in and out clumsily to grab at the edges.

I weigh the joy no love reasons my mind lacks
what the body says it has, but it never will want.
Boys young grow into middle men, most woman
see this and give directions, smart bold smiles.

I know they pray to....