Women. A Perfect Machine.

Since beginning of time, perfect machines, were invented & made,

Designed, created & formed, within every shape, & in each shade,

Faced with every adversity, they are always durable & dependable,

Yet, sadly, by some, not valued, & considered merely expendable.

At times, they can be as hard as rock, & just as sturdy & reliant,

And yet, they’re upholstered in silk, & so softly gentle & pliant,

They snap & crack, to the point of braking, yet, ever they mend,

As the wind through weeping willows, they curtsy low, & bend.

They know of poetry, music, dancing, & the old ancient stories,

Those of herbs & spells, & of life’s pains, sufferings & glories,

They know of sustenance & recipes, of comforting & mending,

They are machines of cleansing, creating, & of fixing & bending.

Machines, lubricated in blood, milk, & salt tears of great oceans,

Within the sweat of great stamina, & all their donated emotions,

These perfect machines, called women, are too, human beings,

Perfect machines, creators of life, but with real human feelings.

POETRY BY – SUE LOBO ©

See more of her work here.

Beautiful art by Kat Shaw & shared with love & gratitude: x ❤

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