Perfection

She is beautiful
But not classically so.
She is not a “Model.”

Models do nothing for me.

Look up “Model”
In the dictionary.
It will describe
A “Model”
As a small approximation
Of the real thing.

She is the real thing.

Her inner being
Rushes from her eyes
Sparkles from her mouth
And breathes through her lungs.

It is not the package
That most charms me.
It is that which is thinly veiled
Behind her flesh.
Were she unwrapped
An exquisite woman would still gleam
As noon rays on white sand.

Of this I am certain.

That is not to say
Her flesh
Is of no consequence.
But I never was a man distracted
By wrapping paper and bows
(Though I do admire the unveiling).

I am trying to say
That the whole of her…
Package
Paper
Bow
And spirit
Are absolute perfection.

She naps in the afternoon light
Streaming through the pane.
Her breath comes easy
Unguarded and peaceful.

She will not sleep long, though.
Every day with her
Feels like Christmas morning
And I know
Precisely
How her ribbon ties.