Beauty is not just in your smile,
Not only your dress.
Or your curves.
Beauty could not define you.
This word,
Its meaning.
Like a box unopened.
But you are so much more.
Describing you is like a painting,
In the hands of Picasso.
The beautiful notes of Mozart,
Played from a piano.
Crafted from the finest of Mahogany.
Keys from ivory.
Spilling out like a river,
Into the salty taste of the ocean.
Your beauty.
This indescribable observation,
I memorize.
And in words I can barely articulate.
True beauty.
That resides in your heart.
YOU ARE READING
His love for Me: My love for her
PoetryA collection of poetry written by Andrew Peterkin Copyright ©️ 2024 Book only on Wattpad. If anywhere else it's stolen.
