I find myself watching how the sun hits her
pale collarbone,
Her fair skin jaded like the dark snowy summit
of a mountain I once knew.
The contours of her face are quiet yet powerful
And I can’t help but notice the straight edge
of her jaw.
Does she know the simple, ethereal quality
of her skin?
I daresay she doesn’t because her modesty
consumes her.
Her eyelashes frame two deep green oceans,
enigmatic and rich,
Each filled with a million specks of shining, blistering gold.
The sparkles that dull in the shadows of her lids
Draw me in.

She laughs; her taut cheeks stretch
a million miles,
The divine lines of her face carved into the
tangible form of bliss.

What a sweet, melted gooey honey smile that makes our knees shake
Under its glare! Thin,
Strong hands sewed onto thin, fragile wrists.
This benevolent goddess.