The Exuberant-Agony Called 'love' Poem by Bryan Taplits

You often hear that "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder"-
But what happens when she gets older?
No longer the sprite
She vaults toward the night-
Not towards the dawn-
And as the days shed its cerulean calm
She now rambles towards elderly acclaim
only to become… more dun.
Though pretty she was and all eyes rejoiced to see her-
And there is no execration nor claw that ever came near her,
As age comes to be (and her hills duly flee)
Like milk, her passed charms become vagrant and curl.
Only true devotion will stop at her berth
where eyes and heart unite-and both come to agree.
So will my ardency ever end? And why did I shake at its start?
Surveying fertile lands resides with more than just one glance-
In sum, although I view her with my eyes-I see her with my heart.