How can she be so beautiful?
With loose cloths,
all over her carefully concealed body,
like some glistening
shield to keep her safe,
she shows none of her secrets
she guards them,
keeping them close
so that none may see
Or touch
Or know
Or even guess
at what she has.
The cloths on her
head and body
are mantles of
perfect faith.
So beautiful,
so wonderful,
so utterly hidden.

While others seek to display,
she seeks to hide,
to conceal that which she has-
so how can she be so beautiful?
No make up touches her
Lips
or cheeks
Yet she is more beautiful
than any model in New York
or sweet sweet Paris.
Few look at her-
rarely taking a second glance
for tempting flesh is not bared
by her
But if one took that forbidden second glance,
one would catch sight
of sweet enduring
humility and grace, caught within
her spell-binding eyes.
One would get lost in the curves of
her upturned lips,
turned in a friendly smile.

I have never seen her body
I have never seen tempting skin from her-
yet the girls beside her march on with
more than tempting skin for show,
yet she is the one who catches my eye-
she is the one that is caught in my mind.
The world around me
whispers in my ear like the ever-present Devil,
telling me that these other girls,
with their bare chests,
and their perfect legs,
that they should be who I consider beautiful-
but this young woman,
who’s shape I do not know,
who’s curves I cannot see,
she is who I see as beautiful-
but how can she be?