Poem

[avevale_intelligencer]

TO ONE LONG LOVED

For fifty years I've known that you were fair
And so you are. No longer young, it's true,
But beauty is not eyes or skin or hair
And youth was never all the fair of you.
Youth is not part of us; it comes and goes,
And leaves us changed, a shadow of our past.
Roses grow rank and foul; but then a rose
Has not a soul, and so it cannot last.
The soul is where the truest beauty dwells,
And that can never wither, never die.
In spite of all the wicked lies time tells
Its truth remains, refuting every lie.
And that which made you lovely then, I vow,
Is that which makes you still more lovely now.

Comments

[patoadam]

Wow. That's incredibly beautiful.