women

I am the inner strength,
the essence of this contender,
a sterling heart,
fragile and tender.

Feeding off love,
the fuel that burns,
an instinctual desire,
to invite the raging fire.

Built to withstand,
the blows and burns,
the stabs and strikes,
a welcome fight.

This part of me,
I did not know existed,
stands her ground when tempted,
shows her face, force and resistance.

The essence of woman,
the true hidden beauty,
is not the manicured perfection,
but her honour and duty,
to deny the imposters,
generous and misleading,
and stick with her promise,
to never stop believing.

The reason she fights,
waits and perseveres,
is not a call of the common,
but a choice her heart fears.

The essence of woman,
the meticulous art,
of protecting herself,
by hiding her heart.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]