Her lips, adorned not in expensive rouge,
speak only words of truth.
Her face, though glowing with happiness,
has not the beauty of youth.
Her hands, though wrinkled and withered,
are always reaching out.
Her home, though small and humble,
of welcome there is no doubt.
The mind beneath her unkempt hair
thinks only things it should.
Her eyes, though small and dull,
refuse to see but good.
When she was laid to rest,
they calculated her worth.
They looked at her and said, “There goes
the most beautiful to walk the earth.”