My wife is beautiful.
She is outwardly beautiful.
The clothes she chooses are feminine and appealing, yet they reflect a modest aura of mystery that others can only guess at. She is lovely when she wears her hair down; whether carefully sculpted before an evening out or carelessly tousled on her pillow as she awakens, it gives her a beauty and a soft feminine grace that defies logic. I feel as though she is teasing me when she wears her hair up, and I’m still amazed that with the simple pull of a comb and a gentle shake of her head, her beauty can be magnified so greatly with such little effort.
She is physically beautiful.
I love the softness of her body, the smoothness of her skin, and the warmth that I feel when I touch her. My favorite part of her body is where her waist gently swells out to her hips, and to feel that swell with my hands is to know without a doubt that I am in the presence of a woman. She thinks it’s unsightly, but she couldn’t be more wrong.
She is inwardly beautiful.
The genuine kindness and caring that dwell in her heart is magnificent to witness. She has a playful spirit, and I will go to great lengths to break her composure, and then delight in her tears of laughter. She is beautiful when she smiles. The light in her eyes, the happiness on her face. Her joy is my heart’s desire, and when that contented inner beauty shines out in her smile, all is right in my world.
She is spiritually beautiful.
What makes her most beautiful to me is something that no one else can experience. She is beautiful because she is my wife. Because she wears my ring. Because she said “I do”, and in doing so chose to spend the rest of her life on this earth with such an imperfect man, and to share her beauty with me despite all of my faults. She knows there will be no refunds on her time; there will be no “do-overs”. And yet, by my side she remains.
If that’s not beautiful to behold, what is?
“Like a lily among the thorns, so is my darling among the maidens.”