Blessed Is She
When I reflect upon her face,
No matter, day or night.
I sometimes feel my heartbeat race
Expressing my delight.
For blessed is she, with female grace
And smiles that glow so bright.
Yes, she, to me, none can replace,
No matter, black or white...
When I recall her voice so sweet,
I cherish every word.
I sometimes feel that she's complete,
No wonder that I'm stirred.
For blessed is she, as if elite,
As one who is preferred.
Yes, she, to me, is hard to beat,
No matter what you've heard...
When I respond to all she is,
I often pause to pray.
I sometimes feel a sense of bliss
That money can't repay.
For blessed is she, a first-class miss,
Much more than just OK!
Yes, she to me, is all there is
God-blessed in every way...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
Added by Poetry Lover
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