Between the Lines
As absence of violence does not equate gentleness.
In her gentle presence
With quiet a smile
She's the picture of peace
For to be benign
One must first inflame.
Her gaze, it scotches
She's born of ferity
She's been a phoenix
For to give light
One must first burn.
In her still ways
She carries humility
She's every bit idyllic
For to be gentle
One must first burn.
@Sue.Ketter
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