A woman is not a picture

A photo isn’t close to truth
it freezes light, but not her roots.
It shows her face, the curve, the grace,
but not the storms her mind can chase.

I want to see with more than eyes,
beyond the surface, past disguise.
the way her laughter carves the air,
the mind that dances, sharp and rare.

Her beauty isn’t skin or face,
it’s how she moves through time and space.
It’s how she speaks, the things she knows,
the fire that in her silence grows.

I look with heart, with thought, with soul
not just at parts, but at the whole.
A woman’s not what meets the eye,
she is the reason, not the why.