Papa wrote me a poem for Valentine's Day.
At first I did not realize that he wrote it.
I should have known - he loves to write poetry.
To Your Beauty
You doubt when I say you are beautiful still
Please give head to my explanation.
What is the beauty we find
In the featureless faces of the youth?
Like pieces of paper as yet unlined
Awaiting the scribe’s writing of truth.
We seek out stories and poems
To read and ponder and discuss;
With such works we fill our homes
We memories them as ‘thus and thus’
And so it is with an olden face
Sculpted by lifelong adventures
It tells of labour, of love and grace
Which powders cannot censure.
It tells of babies which have been born
It tells of loved ones who have died
Of feelings felt, be they love or scorn,
Of plans made and of things tried.
The beauty of youth is the story untold
The face of innocent anticipation
The beauty of age is told and retold
It is a cause for great celebration.
Doubt not when I say you are beautiful still.
This truth needs no explanation.
