A BIT'O DITTY

I may love her she thinks amiss, with passion for her beauty
that doth not demise. Though changes and occasions
may alter shape or size, it matters not though betide.

I love her where ever she may plod, in snowfall or in rain,
I think her beautiful more at the end of a long drawn out day.
Her eyes they glisten in playful abondon, as though she forever young
had supped at the fountain of life and forever in her it sprung.

I love her sly unobtrusive smile, her shy demure cute way,
I love when she make all my frowns become smiles in her own
playful way.

I love that she can make me happy with a smile, or a touch,
and err but a glance from her make most burdens become dust.
What’s best is her beauty, which she thinks she does not have,
is evident in every way no matter if she is wearing rags.

so to you I say I see only beauty, no pockmarks or blemishes
to bear in you I only see beauty inside