May I salute all of the lady poets who grace our presence?

Angels


Your pen becomes the better part of you,
Revealing depths you did not know were there;
You write as if you had a life to spare
Or that through wishing it the world was new.
Sometimes I wonder at the things you do
And see a mind that bends itself to care
And sweet perfection; I could only dare
Myself to think of all that you’ve been through.
Two pens, and yours my love the sweeter one,
I’m quite resigned to smile and softly sigh
And murmur to each one, both east and west,
That I have read and been infected by,
“Yours is the splendor, and my heart’s been won
To better things and all my hours are blessed.”