As I look at you, I wonder;
What word should I describe you with?
What term would summarize with justice
all that you are and all that you have.
Are you beautiful?
Or are you a plain sight to behold?
Should I call you perfect?
Or should I acknowledge the abounding imperfections that form the wonderful disaster that you are.
And then I look at you again, really look at you,
and I see your smile, see contentment in your eyes,
I see the tranquil ocean that has decided to endure every storm with grace.
And I realize how I’ve been vain.
Is beauty all that we’ve held it to be?
For now staring at the mirror, I see happiness.
I see joviality, hope and peace all rolled into one.
And that, for me, is the most beautiful sight ever.
I am happy.
That is perfect enough.


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