My quest for Beauty led me every place-
I found it in a mother’s careworn face;
Its lines are an adornment, for they trace
A pattern of high courage to face pain
And weariness. Of hours she has lain
Awake to hear each sound. She is not plain
Whose eyes reflect serenity by day.
She’d smile, disbelieving, should I say,
“You’ve kept the thing you thought you gave away.”
Nor can an “aid” or artifice compare
With giving love, for sketching beauty rare.
Her face is lifted – up to God in prayer!