I tried to give you my beauty
Learnt at my mother's knee
Of Wordsworth and the grasses
The hilltops and the trees
I had a little garden
And hours of golden fun
Hands brown with sunshine
Our laughter could be sung.
Underneath an open window
A little girl swings
Swaying her new dolly
While the blackbird sings.
Pictures of moments
Are all that I am
I give you my beauty
I lay it in your hand.
I know I am not you,
Wanderer of the stars
You beauty is of a different kind
But the choices we made are ours,
Underneath the heavens
Looking at the sky
We met in the middle
And beauty was not shy.


For my Loving Roger from Mary ***