metaphorce

if the sky and sea
reconcile
their hues they might
approximate her eyes

if you spot a fairy angel
spreading wings there
taking shape are her ears

when the horizon
blushes at the peaking
hills it comes close to being
her cheeks

when you plot
the curve of a baby
swan's neck you
have an angle on
her nose

when you pluck rose
petals and pile them
in two decks
each as thick as a cigarette
there's a touch of her lips

when the sun hides behind
and casts a yellow glow
around a thin
patch of clouds
you get her profile