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Monica Freels


In a fuzzy room,
An Eve-like figure slithers into the water,
Each bubble conforms
To every earned curve.

Angel-kissed skins shimmer in the forgiving candlelight,
As her upswept hair becomes limp from the steam.
A beautiful softness fills her dove-white face,
As she drifts into un-captured dreams.

The sacred room where a minute becomes a moment, 
Is disrupted.
She opens her adoring eyes, 
As he walks in.

His smile touches his dimples
And he turns to go.
Alone again, 
One moment more.

She slips into internal conversation:
What did he see?
The beauty of a girl he met so long ago,
Or the beauty of a woman who has filled his heart with love?

She sees the imperfection,
A youthful body exchanged for a blessing,
For she carried the child
That bears his name.