Some people are works of art,

Others—the spectators.

I have always been the spectator,

Gazing,

Enraptured—

By the beauty of people around me.

::

And now,

Casting furtive,

Longing glances at you,

Is no different.

::

I wonder—

Has anyone ever told you,

That you're beautiful,

Breathtaking,

Enamoring?

::

Eyes of pale blue,

Like the melting ice of February.

And hair,

As dark as the blackest night.

::

You,

The Masterpiece,

And I,

The spectator.