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The Artist
I like to think it was Georgia red clay,
That he picked up to mold in his hands.
I know that he mixed in salt for the grit
It would take to survive as a man.
Just where would he find the sinew and bone?
How would he then style, contour your face?
Where did he tally and tenderness add,
So you'd give me that loving embrace?
He must be Master at doing things right.
The proof I am holding in my arms.
It took a real Artist to create Jim,
With his dimples and loving, sweet charms.
How very sweet, Jessica.
Kim
Mrs. Martin:
A man looks at his hands, after a day working,
and wonders:"Will I EVER get all this dirt off me?"
A woman looks at a man's hands, and smiling,
she considers how soft his next touch will be.
A man worries that he'll sweat, and maybe stink;
he doesn't need Chanel #5, but he'd like to please "Her".
A woman knows how his body works, he isn't "Pretty In Pink"!,
and how he can't hide his tendernesses, forever!
The beauties of Life are summed up as opposites:
what she needs, he provides; what he lacks, she'll bring.
The One Who designed this Beauty has His purposes:
God IS Good, dear friend, and this makes MY heart ring!!!
"Poe" I'm not, nor "Rich" am I,
but I'll be famous, b'ye and b'ye !