No More Beautiful
The ever changing ocean,
playing with its myriads of tides,
reflecting the color of those blue eyes
no more beautiful than her supple mind.
The ever dull mountains,
standing tall in all their grandeur,
adorned with a glittering crown of a peak
no more beautiful than her raven black hair rippling in the cool breeze.
She stands there,
arms locked for warmth,
for the wind is brisk and frosty the lake behind her,
reflecting her majestic figure and the mountains look down benignly upon her,
far out to the ever bibulous ocean is the setting ...