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love poetry writing

Beauty

I could be seen in the curvature of her back, the contours of her thighs, in every elegant hand gesture she made, in her bewitchingly beautiful smile.

I was present at the joyous moment when she took her daughter in her arms for the first time, and at the ritual washing after her mother’s death.

I was present at her wedding, years before when she said yes to the Qadi, who asked her if she accepted this man as hers.

I was present at all those times her dreams were about to come true, and when she graciously accepted that the ship had sailed for some of them.

I was a piece of jewelry, a rahmah from her Creator, she wore — on all these, and many other unnamed, moments in her life — with the grace of a thousand in gold covered queens.

And now she no longer is with us, and I am present in this world solely in the minds of a few people as a residue of cherished memories, I want to reveal my identity:

My name is Beauty. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.