She was so right for him she squeaked.
He knew by instinct God loved her.
And by instinct he knew his desire for her would never peak.

Her eyes, so utterly green, shined and shined upon him,
her smile starting out so sweetly small, opened in no time to contain him all--
as if recognizing someone she had known before.

She was promise.
And she promised it all.

She stepped.

She danced.

She twirled.

And squeaked.

And squeaked.

And squeaked.

And then she just got better.

She must have read a book on just him.
Taken college courses on
How to be Just For Him, 101.
She majored in Man.
Term Papers, Thesis and, Dissertation only to be perfect for him.
Magna Cum Laude
Summa Cum Laude
Top of her Class.
PhD in him.

All that lay within him was suddenly set free.
So much that had so long been restrained,
so long detained, sidelined,
and uncalled for,
came bursting out the suddenly open door.

Sparkling creativity,
knowledge shinning inexhaustible of him.
Her heart set, her will determined on the lucky and fortunate man.

Her hands so small,her skin so entirely fair
he thought her infinitely drinkable,
was greatly worried God would retract this radiant
and irreducible lure before he could bite the delicious hook.

The Madonna, Aphrodite, Marilyn Monroe, Hepburn, Natalie, Michelle and Bergman and the girl next door.
So many ways to be perfect and he ached to marry them all.
This girl, this Wonder!
A then A plus and A plus, plus she was God’s most perfectly formed dust.

(Let her be just for me, he prayed.
Don’t let her eyes wander to the taller, stronger, the richer and better than me.)

So good.
So marvelously right.
So just absolutely perfectly squeezable, squeakily clean;
and all about her proclaimed she was to be just his.

Her eyes promised mischief,
her heart gave him glimpses of a grassy knoll,
white house, clothes blowing in the breeze apple pie on the window,
she brushing hair out of her eyes and he coming up the walk.

Here in what passed for heaven all he did and was pleased her,
all his gifts happily received;
nothing lacking, his failures renamed as God’s Wisdom.

So perfect was she he could not even seem to see all of her at once.
Dainty little feet, shiny clicky little shoes, stepping and dancing and twirling, and squeaking.

Where did she come from? In a time of ambitious women, she accepted naturally her existent superiority.
Both he and she knowing his place to be before her on his knee.
And there, in her beauteous presence,
he became more than he ever could be,
could ever have been elsewhere.
He loved her like God loves the Sequoia Tree.

Lips, nose, eyes, a million ways to smile
a billion ways to say, yes,
a trillion ways to give and forgive,
And more than adequate with her praise.
And when there was crying to be done, well, they cried together.
She took his desire and like a true and honest magician joined it seamlessly with love.

Perfectly formed, delightfully dressed all in white,
old fashioned purity fits the young so well.

This purity, like unto God’s great and shinning Light, heating and burning, consuming his soul, incinerating his once all powerful will to hold back.

She was his!
Incredibly, unbelievably his!
For some reason fathomable only to the One above,
God gave him this mystic vision.
Her name in so many languages is Class.. Graciousness.. Lady..

And along with all else he learned from her,
he learned awe.