Women, conceptually misunderstood,

Hearts as wide as the gate to hell,

Souls as pure as the rays of heaven,

Curators, cleansers, freers of depthless pain 

Raining iridescence, exuding resplendent moods, you're confused at to why she simply must be yours and only your muse 

Graceful in everything they do, powerful in everything they are, you want nothing more than for them to recognise you as their personal star 

Oh to attain their approval and love,

There's no greater or more euphoric feeling above 

Women, in-tune in all their ways,

A maze of spiritual, creative, loving splendour

An eternity of loving them would not be enough to explore every turn and twist that makes them seem so frighteningly strong, yet ever so tender

Floral, green, alive, reaching to be seen

Women, are ever green, beings of creation and awe

I do hope you catch yourself before you journey into the long descent and fall, of loving a woman and realising it is your only true call