The many lines upon your face
Are filled with beauty, every one,
And, like a net, they capture grace
But let through every drop of sun.
I know that, in this day and age,
Convention favours smooth-cheeked youth,
So what? I say; I’ve turned the page
And what I find is God’s own truth.
In spite of what may be on show,
Each thing’s imbued with righteousness,
And, though you’ve started lying low,
I couldn’t love you more or less.
So take a tip from one who sees
And be as joyful as the breeze.
Photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash
