A woman is the moon
She controls the tides 
And can block out the sun
She has a dark side 
But when the sun lowers 
Under its brow
Her gaze shines with fury.
Over her ancient craters 
And hidden caves
Your tiny rocket ship
Is spurned 
And burns in her orbit. 

Yet sometimes she is the Earth
To which you are bound. 
Her scent rises 
From her strawberry skin
In the air dashing 
Through a meadow
To gratify your nose 
And fill your breath
With the scent of a rose
Disturbing the dew
When she wakes from her stillness.