Here in Prescott, cottonwoods,
are scarlet from the fall;
in stately groves they rise,
as big as they are tall.
You are too beautiful for words,
which I try to capture in a song;
words just simply fail me,
I make them up as I go along.
On this day of Atonement
I fast and keep the faith
free from man's objection
that bruise and scathe.
Love does not fail, but people do,
they agonize, what they've been through;
they cast aside, the love they knew,
and then, in sadness...rue.
What does it mean to be beautiful?
to be adored for who or whatyou are
appreciated and admired
from near or from afar.