I saw joy in his eyes
as he beheld her face.
His soul, still young and wise,
knew beauty’s love and grace.

Her gentle voice and touch,
her smile, pure delight,
had no doubt taught him much
of beauty’s depth and height.

Such wisdom’s lost to me.
It left long, long ago.
My eyes now only see
false beauty’s shallow show.

I envy that small child,
whose eyes are not yet blind,
who sees in grandma’s smile
pure beauty well defined.

What every crease reveals,
and every yellowed tooth,
that child sees and feels
of beauty’s timeless truth.