Women
Heart of our hearts
Women
Souls of our souls
They lie down dead
Like sleepers
Through histories landscape
Women
Are our lamb chops
Women
Are our gifts
They
Flourish like meadows
Replenished
By their womanhood
Women
Are where we sleep at night
Women
Are where we eat in the morning
They are the moons of our bodies
They shine,
they control the tides
We do not and cannot follow
Now look back and see
How their broken hearts
Are blown in gusts of autumn wind
As cheap and as beautiful as autumn leaves
