She's a different kind of poem

Her eyes do not shine
Like the stars up above,
And her skin is not pale
Like the wings of a dove.
Her hair does not flow
Gently in the breeze,
And her lips are not red
Like the coral of a reef.

Poets they name
These things beautiful.
They think thses things
Are more wonderful
Than the woman they praise,
And of whom they boast,
And this is the reason
I pity them most.

Her eyes shine with brilliance
Of intelligence inside,
And her hair curls softly
Showing warmth she can't hide.
Her skin flushed with passion
Shows her spirit for life,
And her lips soft and supple
Give way without strife.

She is fully a woman
Such traits does she posses,
And one thing about her
I now must confess.
She captured my eye,
My mind, and my heart,
And from her arms
I wish mever to part.