It’s not her hair, a flight of self-expression,
Though I love what she does with it.
Her proof that change itself is a constant.

It’s not her smile, that amazing grin,
Which fires the room with warmth and joy
And laughter from the purest of hearts.

It’s not her body, taught and lithe
Which appears in motion, even still,
But that will surely change with time.

What is it then, above all else,
Which draws me in, makes me forget
And blinds me to all existence of others?

It’s her eyes. Those incredible, sparkling eyes.
Through them alone can I see the world as it should be.
In them alone might I gaze upon heaven in wonder.

And on her last day, in her final hour,
When those windows of her soul are
Finally closed upon this world…
The earth will have lost something truly beautiful.

God grant me, then, my only wish…
When time draws near, that I might go first,
For I desire not a breath without her.

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