What Makes It Beautiful

Is it the country of mountains, and water falls, that bring a soothing feeling

Or is it the brilliant colors of the aqua sky, the way it weds with the distant valley

What makes it beautiful, is it every paint stroke so carefully applied

Brought to life with happy thoughts, of growing up, and growing old

A picture, not perfect, though each fine line, need not hide its applause

The blue, the gray, the ginger brown mountaintops, they fill you up with joy

The green of the hillside, filled with blue agave, bring light to every sunrise

The workers in the fields, the boss man on horseback, making sure each row is raked in a straight line

The city lit up with ornate street lights, the tall buildings of history, sculpted peeks, each a rainbow delight

The flower gardens, like the scent of freshly ripe fruit, of mango, strawberry, and peach, they bring good cheer

Pouring out of the fountains of youth, a birds drink, a wishing well filled with penny tokens, so breathtaking

Guitars, violins, strings of harmony, music that fills each balcony in awe

You can almost smell the fresh made tortilla's, imagining them melting in your mouth

What makes it beautiful, is the time and dedication, to a picture mural, with a view from the street

A young woman makes pots with her hands, and her feet, she touches them with golde trimmed edges that shine

In hopes, whoever receives them, will be ever so kind, to fill them up, with love, faith, and courage

Sharing it with those less fortunate, the sick, the disabled, the diseased, the forgotten child

What makes it beautiful, is that it spreads a word, or two, a word of hope, kindness, and peace

For all to see, this is what makes it beautiful, to me