Beauty
Beauty
It isn’t my thing,
the glaring sun against sand
‘neath cloudless blue sky.
Sand beneath my feet
and waves washing shells ashore
hold little appeal.
Give me falling snow;
leaves crunching beneath bike tires;
charitable eyes.
There is no beauty
in the pearly white smile that
gleams self-interest.
Now this is beauty:
Jesus, gentle and lowly,
showing us His way.
Let me see Jesus
in your face; hear Him in the
song your kindness sings.
May He teach me how
to sing tender notes, and may
you hear Him in me.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
.
pictured words 