Sometimes I want to weep
At unnoticed beauty –
That’s not seen for its shyness,
Dismissed, “ordinary.”
It’s in the chatter of the birds,
The smell of mesquite trees,
The ebb and flow of whispered words
Caught by th’eavesdropping breeze.
In foamy sips of coffee
In silly, printed cups,
And in the dreamy things I think
When I’m just waking up.
In books written for children
That yet I love and keep.
In the softness of my bed
As I drift back to sleep.
When in rare quiet moments,
I slow my busy mind,
I fall in love with beauties
Of daily, simple kind
And realize that perhaps- perhaps!
The truest art of all
Is found more oft’ than splendor
In beauties sweet and small.
A Bookish Charm 