Femininity

Woman is like a breeze in the body of trees, like a moon on the stretch of the sea, she is a beam of light waving and caressing the shore, a gesture of the moon forming breeze on the cheeks of a fir tree. She is a restrained shame selling sight; an impatient glitter shunning ostentation. The femininity fervency is the motherhood pregnancy. She outlasts the sad long nights to bring an offering to the sun. Womanhood is an extra energy hoarding its brightness in the sun; a shrouded kindness spread through the other. She is a statement ended with a period so the world begins at the very outset of the line.

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