Hindsight
An Original Poem by: Pen Tempest
A mistress of immense inspiration and beauty willing to mask
A lady with independence but “who is it,” you may ask,
Hair shown bright and vibrant such as silhouette before the moon
A presence that seems to bring even the babbling brook to sing in tune,
Temple toned tensile chiseled by nature’s sculptor extraordinaire
As If in single being He grasp all earthly debonair,
Eyes that tantalize like the tides
And able to mesmerize like fire’s suicide,
Her persona tried and time again is still tested true
Yet wholly uplifting and worn on sleeve for the wicked world to view,
A smirk with significant signal like two lanterns lit for war
Or just a solemn flame to lead you home within a storm,
I know you all too well for you are seared into my mind
Image clear like déjà vu whenever sight is found in hind,
The one thing in life I have yet to fail
I -the bow amongst our ship, You -the wind behind her sail,
With respect ‘gangway’ for you know my scribes are sorrow evermore
For this vessel has caught big fish and waits still anchored on the shore,
Thus only in my conscience will such Venus ever come true
So when approached in life by the alluring I will simply ask, “Who are you?”
