Her beauty, could be measured by the imperfections she saw,
It could be measured by the countless moments she places in others hands,
Some simple moments that some wouldn't think much of at all,
I could not measure her beauty, even if I wanted to,
I could not say that she is as beautiful as the first time a child walks,
Or the innocent singing of a young girl without a care in the world,
she might be as beautiful, as the sun set itself,
Or maybe the birds, that sing angelic songs without any clue that they do,
Why should I want to compare her beauty, to any other,
She is not worth comparison, she is worth an incomparable truth,
of beauty unlike others, more beautiful and less,
Her beauty is hers, and with it such a world of possibilities.