Flower of Beauty
Daniel R. Risacher

My flower of beauty, immaculate
Has neither flaw nor slightest stain
Unchanged by all of strife or hate
A constant, mocking stress and strain
Her eyes of warmth, my eyes of slate
The love and sadness of shared pain
 
A figurine in china's shades
Yet wrapped with golden auburn light
Her beauty shines and never fades
Throughout bright day and darkest night
She has no match in other maids
The memory of her sours their sight
 
I dream my flower ever fragile
I fear to mar her perfectness
But she, of grace impeccable 
Is not betrayed by sweet caress
But made more pure, more valuable
Than tongue or pen can e'er express.