Ode to a Woman

It’s hard to identify what makes her different from the rest. 
It could be the delightful warmth of her skin
mixed with the vanilla scent that gently stains her raiment.

Built like the clouds painted by Monet;
meticulously placed colors and curves; synthetic brushes
guided by a graceful hand of a skillful artist. 

Written by the goddesses of beautiful complexity;
a personality fit for a Lousie Alcott novel.
Each thoughtful word is chosen for every specific moment.

Her voice sounds of miracles and birthday wishes.
Preaching the song like an infatuated mourning dove in 
unrequited love with the impassive harpy eagle. 

Aphrodite cowers for Olympus when she arrives;
leaving us to lay among the dandelions in grassy hills that 
yonder the setting sun of crimson, peach, and candlelight.