Lady of the wheat

 

A young woman once so fair and bright, Slowly turning golden in the light, Her skin becomes like fields of wheat, Her hair, a swaying, golden sheet.

Her eyes turn to a deep, rich brown, Like the earth, it's said, deep down, And as the seasons come and go, She transforms, as the wheat will grow.

Her fingers long, and thin as reeds, Her limbs become strong, like wheat seeds, And as she stands among the grain, Her spirit free, unbound by chain.

And though she may be turning wheat, Her soul remains, untouched and sweet, A young woman, once fair and bright, Transformed, but still a shining light.