Do people often tell you
That you are beautiful
As hell?
It seems as if you ought to know.
I hope somebody tells you.
Has told you
Before me.
I hope people say it every day,
All the time.
I hope that,
Somehow or other,
You know-
And you must know, you must-
That you're enthralling.
It's your smile.
I was wondering what it was, earlier,
Thinking long and ******* it,
(Because, really, what else to think of?)
And suddenly it hit me that your joy is infectious.
When you smile, it lights up your whole face,
Your whole self.
Me, too.
Everything.
I've never met anyone who smiles like you do.
Your eyes dance.
Before I met you,
Before I even knew your name,
When I saw you smile
I wanted to cause it.
Because what perfection!-
To be the start of a laugh or a smile in you.
When you smile,
It gets under my skin,
And when you smile at me
I imagine I couldn't possibly stop myself from smiling back
With all the joy I have in my heart
Even if my life depended on it.
I hope people tell you that's beautiful,
That you're a beautiful way to be,
That you're exquisite inside and out.
I hope they say it on the street,
Passing by,
Strangers.
I hope they catch your arm and stop their whole day
Just to tell you how you brightened it with a passing laugh.