Her Kind Of Beautiful

She hid ever changing, yet playful, subtle expressions in her gaze, cues promising motion

as her curves and edges were admired by the oceans themselves.

She was the presence of a storm, each crash of a wave, was the feeling her beauty brought

to the beating heart and lonely souls of her brothers and sisters.

She had a classic style all of her own and could adorn any mantel or crown with radiance

upon her soft bronzy skins glow and her exotic curious features.

She was the kind of beautiful, you couldn’t write home about; words were simple: feeble

and the effort would promote time lost in complete admiration.

She lit fire in ones eyes with her presence and to look away was often met with confusion

then desperately chasing her bouncing figure and flowing mane.