Life, the Beautiful Woman

Life walks toward me dressed in morning light,
with newborn roses resting in her hair;
her eyes contain the oceans I have crossed,
her lips, the songs I never dared to sing.

She sometimes comes with laughter, warm and young,
and sometimes hides beneath a veil of rain;
yet even when her gentle hands depart,
her fragrance stays and teaches me to hope.

I have been lost within her winding streets
and called her cruel when doors refused to yield;
but every wound she traced upon my soul
became a window opening to the stars.

Oh Life, mysterious woman, stay awhile.
Sit by my side beneath the patient moon.
I do not ask that you remain unchanged—
only that I may love you as you are.

For you are beautiful, not without pain,
but for the light that rises after grief;
and every day you place within my hands
is like a rose still trembling with the dew.

When, at the last, you turn and walk away,
I shall not curse the silence of your steps;
I shall be grateful that you looked at me
and let me call your fleeting beauty mine.

Life wears morning light;
she walks barefoot through my heart—
each breath blooms a rose.