on beauty

Overlooked are the boughs and brooks that give rest to the weary,
the luscious trees and grassy greens, that gives home to the fairies.
A setting sun, the gleaming snow, the arid desert and the hungry crows;
all of this I find beauty in; the bumbling bees, the browning leaves
give me happiness, I know. Beauty is the warmth that lives,
the gentle breeze upon my lips; reminds me of the days I’ll live,
the days I’ve lived, the days I’ll miss.