Cherubic lady

I know thee not,

oh, cherubic lady,

how ethereal you

are in an unbending

figure,

I m petered out into

the chunks of my

own torso,

Age can't ebb thee,

Thy shapely equipoise

Who spawned thee?

oh, hunky woman ,

I, a young boy, slivered

with the gales of thy

ritzy prehensions,

Give me a little details

Of thy blues and throes,

People are today flabber-

-gasted beholding thy

wooden halcyon

consonance,

I can discover thee

through the deep

wafts of tone,

Yet, what I discern

in thee, I can't demarcate

thee, is it thee in physical

Or

thy wooden sculpture,

Thou are so stalwart

so attached,

So bounteous so charming,

could I  borrow,

Some fervency some fealty,

the sheer muliebrity of thee,

Utter to me so much

of the woman thou are,

Thou are sumptuous but

immobile ;

Thou don't breathe but has

an exposition,

Thou has no voice, but

endearment is enough,

Blood doesn't flow through

thy veins

but the equanimity and etiquette

keep thee alive,

Yet people still wonder,

Who made thee?

thy eyes, hair, curves,

face or more of the same

ensorcelling everyone

interminably.
©Adi Adnan