She is more precious than gold
Handled daily by creeps.
Her inward burning sun
Is dismissed in flaming deeps.
Your restless urges advance
And she sleeps.
Her heart is severely unloving
And then she surprises you.
No valley of silent stars
Is safe from what she can do.
You find you have a name when
She calls you.
She aspires to no art, no writing,
She keeps busy with nothing at all.
Without speaking a single word
She made this poet fall.
My library that weeps
Is now small.
She moves erect with purpose and knowledge,
But every step makes me sigh,
And when she nibbles an orange
She drinks my oceans dry.
Her firm denial she’s pretty
Is a lie.
Her signature utterance is a bitter laugh—
With teeth as white as the sun.
She wastes the day and is lazy,
But her work always gets done.
She doesn’t seem human—
But is one.
