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Death of Beauty
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Just poems Love me not for what you see, my dear,
or for that which you can touch & hold.
For I'm not immune to the wrath of time,
you see...one day, I too will grow old.
My thick auburn locks will turn to gray
and my youthful glow will have faded.
My vibrant smile, like a flower, will wilt,
and once sparkling eyes will seem jaded.
My skin might look like an ill-fitting suit,
and gravity will cease to be a friend.
Wrinkles will devour my pretty face,
leaving my looks a memory, in the end.
So love me not for what you see, my dear
let what is unseen be why.
Love beyond what you can touch & hold,
for one day my beauty will die.
