Feeling Beautiful

She lay with the grace of a white dove roaring through the sky. Her face, dusky, had a certain glow. Submerged in the twilight, yet somehow she shined through the imperfect illumination. She lay on her left side with her right hand over her head obscuring a part of her eyes. The long, velvet smooth arm fell on the wooden edge of the simple piece of furniture that embraced her. The wood pressed her skin in love whispering promises in her ear gently. Her legs, slightly bent at the knees, were gently curled into one another, snuggling for warmth. The outline of her body, in a powerful curve, seemed like a wave gushing forward with strength. Her fingers curled inwards in relaxation would remind one of the bent stems of sunflowers turning in shy surrender to be loved by the sunlight. Her eyes were closed yet seemed to be smiling. Her long, hypnotising lashes were in the shape of the moon on a night just before it dissappears. That expression, that chaste look, could only belong to a pure heart. An unadulterated heart directed by the AlMighty Himself.