Its inner and outer beauty are one,
and it wakes up my eyes to see,
for me and others, that so are ours.
Only I'm not yet strong enough to let that truth
completely enter in where it should and bloom from there,
yet it still makes me smile,
and so many things start with a smile.
I imagine it has stored up so many blown kisses;
I imagine the light of our love for it
gives it more light than the sun.
When it's going down
it's like a million diamonds
acting like children,
running frantically everywhere,
with an extra helping of innocence and joy on top.
The lights have turned off,
as they often do,
but then comes that honest spark
giving me a helping hand,
touching so tenderly without trying,
and showing me that hand choking the life out me,
it all is vividly clear,
and I put my hand down,
and start anew.
It's not on magazines;
it doesn't wear make-up,
but it's perfection,
and a gift to almost all the senses.
A waterfall proves there's beauty even when you fall.