White flowers grow Rainy days carry on, Ushering the birth of a child. Her name, drawn from the sweet nectar Of nature's song. Beauty is her essence Every day she flourishes, Soon to be in full bloom. Eyes that retain the glossiness Of a rain drop, They reflect all that's good. Her hair grows as if the vines of A forest. She enchants others, She drives others wild With bewilderment. She carries herself like a stream, Gracefully in every move. How could such a woman be real? She is a child of every beautiful thing. A whisper of nature’s first breeze she is, A vibrant echo of all seasons. She is not just born of beauty She is beauty. Her body is cradled by the earth. She drifts through the world, Untouched, eternal, Yet touching everything With her radiant presence That warms the earth. She is a lively flower That never fades.