I wrote this when I was reading The Pillow Book, a diary by Sei Shonagon. The Heian period (c. 800-1200 AD) is so weird, if you like history you should definitely look into it. A Heian lady actually wrote what is regarded as the first novel. They lived for poetry, and the only topic worth pursuing (aside from court gossip) was the beauty of nature.
Sits at her writing desk
All grace and brightly layered robes.
Her hair is not like yours.
Her skin is thick with powder.
Her worries curve in a direction you cannot follow.
Even her moon is too new.
But while she watches this moon
White round face upturned
A small reflection of its object
Her heart is your heart.