Beauty Lies In The Eye of the Beholder
By M.B.V
“For what can awaken
An angel so soon
Whose sleep hath been taken
Beneath the cold moon.”
—Edgar Allan Poe, “Al Aaraaf”
Your eyes, they gleamed in hazel hues,
They drew full and bright ember moons.
They looked over the orchard you grew
With all the care in which it blooms.
Your lips, were shaped in a tender heart,
A testament to God’s most perfect art.
The Art of kissing your tender lips—
Is a Blessing, the ultimate reward for Bliss.
Your nose, was sculpted with grace,
A tender line amid your rugged face.
Yet strong, and defined with pride,
You were a Grecian hero, deified.
Your arms cradled the Angels,
Your feet, crinkled by the sand—
Mapped your endless travels.
Your shoulders carried the meek,
On a pedestal you stood, so grand.
