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/