Who Knows

As soft as thoughts of cotton in a cloud
She blesses words that fill the weathered air
With colors where such rainbows are allowed
And now I know just why she lingers there

As warm as life itself when passions rise
Beyond the metaphors of simple verse
She knows that trust may soon eclipse the skies
And stars might flare and fade as we rehearse

Rehearsal is a duty one might find
If duty were the purpose of her art
And we shall see, although we once were blind
And I shall clasp her gently to my heart

The strength of her is more than sweetened time
And she will be my final couplet’s rhyme.

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