She lies in bed her back to me, her sinuous curves exposed, like Stradivarius violin,

her flesh is marble statue, blue veined her skin. 

Michelangelo in all his glorious moods, could not begin to sculpt a woman's figure

more lovely than these contours, the radiant dawn glows over her.    

Shaped  perfectly in early morning light, classical beauty for me alone to  view,  

she stirs, and moves, letting rosy hue in perfect harmony, her body to imbue. 

Familiar face with timeless loveliness, lies in carefree sleep, her lip a curl of sheer delight,

 her features gradually resolve, dissolving last vestiges of night.     

My Creator, I can only state that there is nothing more wondrous in nature, or the Abyss,

than the female form, when observed like this.   

   Precious moments I lie watching, the beginnings of the day,

and then she turns, awakening, and I, still admiring her gracefulness,

give thanks for her making