In the eyes of the beholder, beauty is found,
A prism of visions where judgments are crowned,
What one may see plain, another sees gold,
For beauty, my dear, is a story retold.

A petal in bloom, a star in the night,
A whisper of wind, the softest of light,
To one, a mere moment; to another, divine,
Each gaze is unique, and and each heart intertwines.

An ancient oak tree, gnarled and wise,
Its rough bark is a testament, under open skies,
Some see it as weathered, old and uncouth,
Others find magic in its ageless truth.

A smile with a gap, a laugh full of mirth,
A soul that finds joy in the simplest of earth,
Not perfect by standards, yet perfect in kind,
Beauty resides in the eye and the mind.

For mirrors can’t capture the depths of the soul,
Nor portraits define what makes us whole,
It’s the lens of the heart that colors the view,
In the eyes of the beholder, all things are true.

So cherish your visions, the ones that you keep,
For beauty is vast, and endlessly deep,
In the eye of the beholder, where dreams take their flight,
Every glance holds a wonder, every gaze, pure delight.