Dark Eyes of Fatigue

Some women seem to fall into beauty
The universe conspiring at their side
Blessed with good form and clear skin
They forgo powders that hide or smooth
Clean-faced they face the world

These goddesses put those to shame
They might spend a year at labour
Spending all their energy in strife
Yet mortal eyes will be amazed
At what wonders come to light

A goddess rising from a tousled bed
Will have wild locks of darkest black
Mortal women might spend days
With combs and picks and sprays
In hope to pull off such effect

On completing some great labour
When their eyes are sore and tight
Darken into shadows perfect shaded
Fatigue adorns them like charcoal powder
Therein lies their perfect power

Incorruptible by simple life
Accepting in the dross of living
That lesser women try to hide
They turn it into beauty
To make the mortals wail and cry

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This work is Copyright (c) Mike Fletcher 2006