Sentry

She is like autumnal apples,
Hardened, sharp yet sweet,
Remaining in her stay,
Until they are complete.

She is like a slender doe,
Elegant - I would say,
Yet do not be mistaken,
She was born a bird of prey.

She is a warming dawn,
After the coldest of nights long,
Open hearted to weak,
And keen eyed to the wrong.

By the morning -
She will rest -
Lay her wings -
And stay her stead -

She will never rest -
Not half as best -
Until near my chest -
Her head.