Beauty Poem by W H Benjamin

Beautiful buds, so like, the scarlet bits of amorous lips

My tree is dying, flowers every spring with a snow drifts worth of blossoms

Pink Petals, star shaped, carpet every step of concrete

Making discreet the ugliness of city streets

Free form love letters to beauty flutter down with effortless grace,

Touching the base of this arduous place

Like delicate fingertips they trace.

With roots deep in beauty, this tree squeezes water and love, piece by piece, upwards toward the smog filled sky.

She expresses, with every little flower, the peace of heaven which is not yet ours.