I Love Being a Woman

I wake, I stretch, and luxuriously yawn,
I am happy to be me; I am glad to be a woman.
As I move, I feel the weight of my breasts;
Am aware of the flair of my hips;
The strength hidden in muscles,
rounded and softened by womanly flesh.

I know the power of carrying within
the product of love’s labour not lost.
I have felt the joy of my child’s first movement,
and endured the pain at his birth,
followed by the euphoria of cradling a miracle;
Shared secret, sacred moments, feeding him at breast.

I am the opposite sex; The soft to your hard,
the warm welcome to your urgent knock.
But do not mistake this for weakness;
You may be the tall and sturdy oak tree,
but I am the strong and supple bamboo,
that bends with each breeze and weathers all storms.

So come my lover, my friend, my confidant,
come celebrate again, and again with me
the deep-rooted rapture our differences give;
Slide into my burning passion’s hot embrace;
Touch me, caress me and remind me once more,
exactly why, I love being a woman.

I Love Being a Woman

Rosepoet

Balgal, Australia

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Artwork Comments

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