I saw her slender, fitted glove..
Slide down upon her hand...
And outline all her fingers...
And that golden wedding band.

I saw her wear that long black dress....
With tresses to the floor...
I saw her, how her eyes lit up...
As she leaned upon the door.

I saw her figure, small and slight..
She was bathed in morning light.
And yet I knew that she was right...
And that I'd give up without a fight.

I saw her sparkling, golden hair...
That seemed to float upon the air...
And gently lay on what she'd wear..
Or on a skin so pure and fair.
I noticed how she always looked
At me when I awoke.
And make my day seem magical...
And happiness evoke.

For some that made it special
For others still were grand.
For me and just those qualities...
Were nothing more than bland.

But when she moved and swayed her hips.
I always had to bite my lips.
And every breath, the slightest wisp...
Layed still upon my heart that grips.

She is poetry in motion.
She is the sun and earth and sky.
She is nothing sort of beautiful...
And the reason I'm alive.

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Chronos, in the year 351 AF.