Beauty Is Innate

Beauty is innate I have not a soft spot for you nowadays, When dust fast approaches and sets in night, Not a memory of your super than suede skin tone lingers, Not the softness from your ointment still arouses My sense. See beauty without grace Is like Fish far displaced from water, And watching it die right there, With minimal capacity to revive its existence. See beauty is without pretense, It dwells in utmost reverence. And cultivated in patience it grows, Not to what to the bare eye appeals, But what the heart desires. It is that flame That burns within few. And gradually it grows to a bonfire, That one seldom yearns for its end. A flowers beauty is so much satisfying when picked; Its sweet fragrance only heightens thirsts, Just as fast as a seductive touch, Within love-seeking hearts. Not even the finest piece of art or photography, Could capture a flowers beauty, As divine as it is when its hand held But its beauty soon fades To remain but a mere bit of finery to be pushed aside.