Beauty is...

Blueshore



Beauty is...

Beauty is made and grown, not manufactured
It is not made with money on the mind
It's when the closed bud decides to open for a friendly spring sun
When the caterpillar returns from hiding with bright, shimmery wings
Beauty is the piece of art made out of a blank canvas
The elegant swan skims across a glittering lake
The old gift that is falling apart but was crafted with love
Any mantelpiece decorated with compassion
A caring hug between two friends
It's the time when the sun waves hello and goodbye with ribbons of color
The confidence that shows when one is stared at by teasing eyes
The connection a criminal feels towards the caged dove
Sense of giving on special occasions
Loving eyes of a new mother looking at her baby sleep
Grateful smiles on the faces of starving children
Relieved tears from a stranger's thoughtful assistance
Beauty is a repentant tear at a church
Wind blowing through a meadow of flowers
The shine of a diamond promising love everlasting
Beauty is to look into a mirror and see a person who is one in a million
Some people don't notice beauty because they don't look around.

Karen Jones

Copyright by Karen Jones

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Blueshore

The sun casts streams of light lavender and soft orange
        as it dips lower in the sky
Few stars sparkle in anticipation of calm night and in farewell
        to the sun half gone
Clear ocean creates a reflection distorted by ripples
        but makes the sun whole
A string of diamonds on the ocean lead from the beach to the sun
Gentle breezes caress your face while they slowly drive
        each wave to the shore
Each wave sighs when it mingles with the sandy plain
The warm water washes over your bare feet
Sand shines like gold flakes as it basks in the golden glow
The sandy shore is firm under your fingertips
Spots of long grass dance slowly in the salty air
A short maple wood fence stands near the end of the beach and
        watches the calm scene
Your ears catch the call of seagulls flying across the sun
A cloud colored feather lands on the water, making minuscule ripples
The feather slowly drifts over to you as if it had known you were there
You gingerly pick it up and start feeling the leaf like veins
Even for just for a moment, you believe everything in the world is right.

Karen Jones

Copyright by Karen Jones

Backgrounds by Marie

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