Beauty is in his face,
but only life has crossed mine-
No, it isn't age, I say
only what I have lived.
Life left me with
older eyes, a friend once told me.
The eyes his beauty looks
deep within.
My lips have known
my tears-
tears that fall like snowflakes
gently to the winter's floor.
His hands have
brushed them away
as if they were drips on a canvas.
Life has crossed my face-
but his beauty kisses it still.
Thank you for loving me still.
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