The Model Life (4)

 I don't deny I love the way you look
 And though it's said to be but shallow praise
 Just one encounter was all that it took.

 The time has passed, now: all the years, the days,
 And still I love to see you being you,
 With all your many attitudes, and ways.

 For what's most beautiful is what is true:
 Not posing, but existing, as you are,
 And how engrossed you are in what you do.

 We have been through a lot, and we've come far:
 You're still my day's bright sun, and night's best star.

Choosing to Become

As a teenage boy, I didn’t realize
The degree to which some girls, every day,
Turn themselves into works of art.

I only ever saw
The finished product, and I
Assumed girls looked the way they did
Having expended as little effort as I had.

(My sister was much older, and
Taught me nothing useful about girls.)

My father, however, did tell me,
By the time I was in college, that
It was possible, even if I was buying a date dinner,
That she had spent more on the evening than I had.

My father was, among many other things,
An artist, a painter –
He loved beauty, and
Understood it in ways I have yet to.

The creation of self is
An activity we all indulge in, every day;
Some of us more consciously than others.

Now, when I turn to look at you
On a day like this,
Your beauty is all the more striking,
Because I know it consists both
Of who you are
And you are choosing to become.

And it is miraculous
To me