Dear Beautiful,
I am,
in love with
the wrinkles at the edge of your eyes, that speaks of
"the million laughs you had,"
in love with
the cracks on your heels, that chronicles
"the rough road you have mastered,"
in love with
your withered hands, that defend you who is too kind to speak up
"of how you have cared for someone more than yourself,"
in love with
your exquisite soul, that has grown graceful with each strand of grey hair.
P.S. To all the children out there:
Remember,
Every wrinkle and scar our parents bear is a mark of their unconditional love.
