She thrusts and parries, ducks and dives
skilled she is with glistening knives.
Able to brew up quite a stir
and this man begs her call him "Sir".

An art, a gift, sobering feel
as flashes glint from hardened steel.
Her hands demure but deft you see
could carve a roast of me or thee!

The blade slides fast through paper thin
as though mere butter instead of skin.
A heart of softness,frills and fun
while she pins a rat on the run.

to see her, one would never ascertain
that the blood of warriors runs through her veins
and though her trusted course is peace and love
she'll give you "what for" if push comes to shove

Her deadly tools are from ages ago
blades and bastons, stealthy arrows and bows
throw in a tomahawk, a whip or two
then just stand way back, see what she can do

fear not, dear friend, though danger be her name
she's laughter and joy, truly loves the game
of teasing and taunting with harmless jest
unless of course with real peril she’s met

The blade, the ax, stiletto too.
All tools to her, weapons to you.
A turkey carved without a scrap
to feed the dog or a starved sap

And when he comes to ring her bell
he wears full armor of finest mail.
To keep her from thinking it’s merely him
desperately in need of a shave and a trim.

For she's a kitty cat with milk, you see
Gown of red satin and soft silken weave
Her closet locked to keep her tools
away from him or other fools.

Tim, the Tool Man cannot compare!!!!
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