Redhead
The wind blows, stirs, billowing flaming tresses.
A mystic magic this prize of locks possesses.
Green eyes with just a hint of mischief fill
Alluding to her strength, her forceful will.
She is so like moonlight, like full moon's light.
So pale and so perfect that it just seems right,
That freckles flecked in myriad across her skin,
As in the sky one looks at the stars within.
And beautiful without bounds, are they and she,
Without stars, where would the sky's beauty be?
Not just in the brilliant sunrise flame of her hair
But how she does everything with certain flair,
There is inside her, a flame that shows through,
In everything large and small she chooses to do.
Moods and temper flit like autumn winds blow,
Not even she knows in which direction they'll go.
Copyright Heather Glenn 2007
The wind blows, stirs, billowing flaming tresses.
A mystic magic this prize of locks possesses.
Green eyes with just a hint of mischief fill
Alluding to her strength, her forceful will.
She is so like moonlight, like full moon's light.
So pale and so perfect that it just seems right,
That freckles flecked in myriad across her skin,
As in the sky one looks at the stars within.
And beautiful without bounds, are they and she,
Without stars, where would the sky's beauty be?
Not just in the brilliant sunrise flame of her hair
But how she does everything with certain flair,
There is inside her, a flame that shows through,
In everything large and small she chooses to do.
Moods and temper flit like autumn winds blow,
Not even she knows in which direction they'll go.
Copyright Heather Glenn 2007
