Beauty

As you sit by the window
with diffused evening light
spinning the graying strands
of your hair into silver,
you are beauty.
The light loves you.
Shadows play in the angles of your face,
hiding beneath your brow,
in the cleft of your chin.

Your hands are graceful as birds,
your fingers long and elegant
as you turn the page,
gently smoothing each in turn,
loving strokes like
poetry in the light.
I long to be that book,
to lie naked beneath your gaze
as you hold me.

You are beauty,
poetry made flesh,
harmony made concrete,
my love realized.

© Elle Lassiter, 2004