You are a masterpiece.
Even though Botticelli did not paint you
With gardens and seashells at your feet,
With the wind gently caressing your purity,
You are still Venus.
You are still love,
And you are still life, and beauty.
Michelangelo did not illustrate you within the Sistine Chapel
Touching the hands of God,
But certainly the hands of gods have touched you;
Your divinity is eternal.
Quatrains and couplets filled with everlasting love
Have endured time, and remain as eloquent,
But any attempt to define you within lines and stanzas
Because you exceed every locution of words of beauty.
This poem is about:
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: