A woman is like a flower
She starts out like a bud and
Like a rose, her beauty increases
Every day, until it's like a flood.
Here the comparison ends.
For flowers wither and die.
A woman grows so many ways
As she reaches for the sky
She becomes a special thing, a jewel,
A queen, a wife and soon she's a
Mother, the giver of all life.
And still she goes on growing
A paragon of virtue, a vessel of good taste.
Women are the fabric that holds our world together.
And she does this with love, it floats around her like a feather.