Beauty Is...

To my dearest...

What is beauty?
Is it physical?
The shapes and contours,
the curves and lines?
The walk,
the talk,
or the way her smile shines?

Perhaps it's in the head,
in 'the eye of the beholder'.
But I think I'm only getting colder.

Beauty is her.
Beauty is the soul that says my name
and the eyes that possess flame
It is the one who gives the spark
when all around me is dark
Beauty is...

It's not in the tangible,
for that which is here
will soon be gone...
And beauty has no such fate.
Rather, it is what we cannot state,
in words alone.

Beauty is her.

Reviews

[Jukebox]

This is a sweet poem that just begins to uncover the borders of appeal. It gives a lovely perspective to consider and embrace. Well done.