Skin deep

She rises with the sun, and stretches like clouds,
but the sky is an unblemished blue.
She stands with the sycamores then
walks with honeysuckle
and the apple tree leans so she mustn't
offering its most mouth watering.

Beauty is always drawn to her
for she cannot be rivalled;
winds don't intrude, they double back
and choose another path.

The day sets sail around the sphere
like a boat in a bottle hovering on strings.
The stars appear, then disperse and
reappear from the thin, puce clouds.

She looks at the stars with jealousy,
and wonders to herself sincerely:

"Do I outshine them?"