What do you see?

A wife?

A mother?

A mistress – or maybe a lover?

What is it about her that makes her attractive – sexy even?

Is it her eyes, or the way she smiles?

Is it the way she walks, or the way she talks – even the way she dresses?

Maybe it’s the way the wind teases the rise and fall of her hair as she walks, or the sound of her voice even – soft as birdsong with the sting of summer lightning.

Is it the curve of her breasts or the sway of her hips – the sweet smell that lingers in the air or the skip in your heart as she brushes by you, even when her passing is all but a memory?

Could it be the empathy she shows to others, or the sorrow she hides from the world – a world that makes sense with her inclusion, bringing emptiness with her absence.

Is it the love of the children?

Unhampered by the filters of time and cynicism they see only the universal mother.

The kindness and love.

The forgiveness and understanding.

What do you see?

I see all of the above – I see my wife.

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