Modern Romanticism

The woman with a fan

To still the descending droplets

Of sweat, from pores that open across

Her velvet flesh.

The woman with a fan,

The woman who can still stand,

Despite the harrowing years

It took to appear grand.

A single arm holds her upright,

It is mine,

As she is stilled by time.

She sees the universe for its expanse

That is my mind.

And I hold upright a star,

Covered by no more scars.