Her body bears the mark of quiet grace,
Like heaven’s angel resting in the sun;
She gives her shape to sight, her gentle face
Such beauty may be touched by eyes alone.

For any brave enough to hope and try,
Her love becomes a gift beyond compare;
Who asks her hand with honest heart and eye
Will find no equal walking anywhere.

Yet those who love her know it is not sight
That holds the truth of who she really is:
Within her eyes live calm and softened light,
A peace that gives the soul its meaning still.

Not beauty is the flame that blinds the day,
But love that keeps its light along the way.

Tomaž Jevšenak