By D. R. DiFrancesco
Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder,
As does love when souls grow older,
Doth the mind play tricks on the aging eye,
Maybe so, it most surely try.
Portraying the look of younger days,
We overlook the changing grays,
Projecting on the freshness of youth,
Beliefs most surely are the truth.
With utmost certainty a gift this must be,
For lovely today as the first are thee,
Is this a trick or are we but blind,
Left to the mercy of a hopeful mind.
Doth this make us mere fools to our memory,
Would have it no other way if it let me,
Hiding away the ravages of time,
Leaving in life a love most sublime.