They tell her to surrender
They tell her to let go of all that is inauthentic
But where does the true beauty lie
If not in her own heart?
She would be twenty three when she met him
Twenty three when she met the man
Who she would finally give her heart too
But twenty three is fast disappearing.
She is anxious, unfulfilled and tender
She has only just planted the seeds
And is impatient to pick the fruit
She must learn to wait her turn.
(C) Meisha Lowe 2014