No I’m not a beautiful person, I’m sorry.
I’m not special, or full of light and laughter,
with a smile delicate as fine Venetian lace.
I’m not the soul who lights up a room
whenever she walks in.
I carry a little darkness, a little storm cloud.
I’m rather plain, and that’s ok.
but my eyes are large,
they have seen beautiful things
and my ears are like a fox’s
they catch the whispers you drop
I collect beautiful things
like a magpie, I’m lining myself
to make up for the lack of my own.