Patient

			Watching the light play over her perfect skin -
			Perfectly shaded,
			Perfectly shaped.
			The hair that folds lightly on her back and shoulders,
			The purity of her body -
			But then I must wonder:
			What scars has she in her soul?
			What blackness might speck her mind?
			For none of us are fully clean,
			But I wonder in what exact way she is not?
			For I have only ever seen her from afar,
			Have not even said 'hello' once,
			Let alone know any of the workings of her mind.
			I do not judge,
			But I would like to know,
			And continue to wonder,
			Even somewhat impatiently -
			For if she is the same inside as out -
			Only a few blemishes -
			And those covered over neatly -
			And as for the rest:
			Kept clean and wondrous,
			Pure and amazing -
			She would be a slightly blemished angel -
			Maybe just an earth-touched one,
			Affected by all that goes on down here.

			But I do not know of her life at all -
			I do not know her...
			Thus I can only wonder,
			And wait for God to reveal what he will.