The petals to a beautiful dawn,
A pinkish gateway to our life,
Our very own work of art,
A Turner Prize for every wife.
For every precious daughter,
For every sibling and spouse,
For woman, brave as a lion,
For girl, timid as a mouse.
Lovely, small and tucked away,
Gorgeous, full and proud,
Individual and so unique,
Standing out from the crowd.
Personal and intimate,
Only for the chosen few,
Or flaunted, glorified,
Given a very public view.
Inners and outers,
Pierced and tattooed,
Shaved and styled,
Or left as, is your mood.
Attached in sweet partnership,
To the tip of our great pleasure,
Full of tingling nerve endings,
And glistened for good measure.
Each is a world of wonder,
Each should be seen in a new light,
Appreciate your gift from mother nature,
And fight for a woman’s right.
So, to our un-learned elders,
Your superstitions are not fact,
Away with your bloody butchery,
And you leave ours intact.