Seasons

Is it from within her,
The beauty she possesses?
Or is it all external,
In fancy frills and dresses?
As it shows so clearly,
Her face, a smile caresses.
But yet there remain hidden,
Secrets she ne'er confesses.

Her life is one of conflict,
To quell a hidden fire.
Training her responses,
Not to express desire.
Proud of her work and station,
Her aim grows always higher,
To be, not seeking glory,
One whom some may admire.

Yet none of it is vanity,
Her quest for this perfection.
She knows her limitations,
And thus makes her selection.
Striving to be pleasing,
To mirror her reflection.
Subtle in her gratitude,
And granted this protection.

Through the changing seasons,
She grows a little bolder.
Maturity brings wisdom,
Or so a wise man told her.
It was never quenched within,
That fire burns no colder.
With inner peace and contentment,
Each sunset seems much golder.

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