More of What You Are
I know you think it strange
that I should sit here gladly
as you prepare for a night out,
watching you as you primp,
each pat of powder or swath of lipstick,
each curl of hair, the care you take
with your dress as it shimmies over your slip,
watching you move from beauty
to beautiful, in wonder that you can possibly
become more of what you are.
About this poem
I can’t be the only man who enjoys watching his wife get ready to go out. Can I?
I cannot recall where I took this picture. But I have a tendency to take pictures of dressing tables when we visit old homes.