The free verse poem on the perspective of beauty and the effect is has on the present, past and future. Does a flower once in bloom stop being beautiful?
I sit here, Inside. Not Outside. With convenience. Luxury. Thinking of beauty, It's existence. When does it start? and when does it end? For the love that it gives, was it once not infinite? And yet how easily discarded, In another beings view. In yours sometimes too!
