The Perfect Woman, Deon Mumple, 10/8/2015
She isn’t a size double-zero, as it happens she’s a tall double-two.
And her feet aren’t a perfect size nine, but they fit inside her shoes,
Her hair sometimes shines a little more, as the sunlight glints white or grey,
Her face shows concerns, love, and wisdom, but I’d stare into those eyes all day.
The world says she’s not a perfect ten, but who are they, when she’s my wife?
By that scale I’d say she’s an eleven, with real curves not cut by a knife.
If she wore a plain muddy shirt and sweatpants, I would still notice
What I notice, and addicted, I would still crave one more kiss.
Sometimes she wears makeup and dresses, and Revlon colors her hair,
But I’ve let her know that that is her show, if she didn’t, I really wouldn’t care
Sometimes she makes me work my tail off, because she’s just too tired,
But she loves me, I love her completely, and that’s how poetry is inspired.