What does Beauty have to say as she comes

Strolling down the avenue, by tinted rooms?

Her beat struts out of time like a broken drum

Muted like a flower, silent as the moon

Only half as good as the rest of us

The symmetry they tell us sets the mood

For our gazing, stalling, gawking like Herons

Stuck on one foot, craning, stirring thoughts lewd

At nature’s seeming perfection, out of tune

With the rest of the brood’s brutish short comings

So shall she desire to speak later, soon?

We then must decide, due all these flatterings?

Speak not, fair flower, admirers welcome

Knowing God’s prolific imperfections.


Photo credit: By Zach Brose of Stephanie Danielle of “The City Blonde” http://www.thecityblonde.com/florals-flatiron-district/



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