To the embers of the flame
And the dewdrops of the rain
Cold metals are heated,
Molded, and pleated
For you to obtain.
Time is spent
As words are bent
Into dedicated phrases
Your memory never hazes.
The poets, the workers, the busy bees
They all praise you on their knees.
Poems and trinkets lay at your feet
For craftsmanship is what you seek.
In the night you heal with light
Magic woman, you shine so bright.