Yes, I am a woman
whimsical, tantrum throwing
hardly know my mind, you say
the one you love to call babe
babes know what they want
a feed. a hug, a cuddle sleep
and till you give it
they cry, they scream
go red in the face
that's focus, don't you agree?
You love the cute angel type
one who smiles and coos
does your bidding
a manicured lawn you create
false crested, decorative;
and there's the other one
scheming, manipulative
power hungry, a temptress
you call her witch or siren
the bonsai you create
huge trees stuffed in pots
twisting, turning
winding roots around self
stretching to make space
where there's none.
What of man, you ask?
is there no violence there?
Not much difference
decisive, authoritative
a hard coconut shell cover
hiding uncertain teenager
stepping into unknown territory
Brash and loud
Suave and polite
skins they wear
shading doubts, fears, tears.
Above both sits
Majestic Patriarch
forging into shapes.
