They walked along as content lovers.
Her hair pulled up tight in a librarian bun
With a smiling face that would melt hearts
Her flower skirt flowed in the hot August air
And her white blouse was century old fashion.
I could see her beauty was taken for granted.
If I was next to her, one hand would take hers
My eyes would not leave her eyes
And I would caress the nape of her neck.
So if we can unlock beauty in strangers,
Can we do it in ourselves freely.
I would say it starts there first.
By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs