There's something special about her.
Something built into her very figure, her very being,
That seems so natural: as if she couldn't be any other way.
She couldn't be normal if she tried.
She has a sort of flowing grace:
          a fluidity
          and beauty
held simply in how she moves.
I don't know how she does it,
but everything she does seems
                    natural
          as if she were in utter and complete control

she trips,
she laughs,
she calls herself clumsy –
          -yet she somehow manages to preserve
          that sense of grace
she seems rehearsed -
not in the sense that she's done this before,
but in the sense that she knows how it should be done

There is a quality of purity about her
that affects me:
          it restrains me,
                    keeping me from saying or doing things
                    that I might, were she someone else
          it elicits me,
                    drawing me to her, compelling me to do
                    whatever I possibly can for her
          it amazes me.
She seems so innocent,
but not naive.
She looks at me, arms crossed,
that intense sense of intelligence
pouring from her colored eyes.
You are an incredible woman, my dear.
I have no idea how you came to be so...
                              flawless.
She's so incredible that at times,
          I'm amazed she exists.
That she hasn't been spirited away by someone,
or spoiled by someone or something.
The feeling of discovering beauty
where you hadn't even been searching for it
                    overwhelms me.