If beauty were a flower,  then darling, you're my garden.
You're my sweet, simple daisy when you wear your Sunday best.
You're my crazy exotic hibiscus when you laugh in the summer breeze.
You're my innocent sweet pea when you're wrapped in my arms in the morning.
But sometimes,  
my darling,
you become a wilted rose who's lost among your darkness stained petals and brittle thorns.
I try to be your sunshine, but your winter drives my warmth away.
I tend to you,  my vast and wonderful garden, and am amazed at how my curiosity is never satisfied.
Yet there are still corners that I have not found and patches of you that the sun won't reach.