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.

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