Beauty waiting to be found,
While sound and fragrance play their part.
Jagged mountains and rolling hills,
Merely looking stirs the heart.
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A morning sky, a flight of geese,
A wooden lattice dressed with flowers,
The purest white of downy clouds,
Shadows creeping through the hours.
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The frozen surface of a lake,
Shadows floating in a fog,
Branches waving in a breeze,
A crop of moss upon a log.
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The bands of colour in a rock,
Melting snowflakes, a setting sun,
A spread of countless sparkling stars,
A dancing flame sure plays its part.
Ivy climbing up a wall,
Water dripping, one by one,
A dark horizon’s silhouettes,
Web beads glistening in the sun.
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Sands patterned by relentless wind,
Leaves slowly flutter with a breeze,
Berries hiding in a bush,
Leafless branches on winter trees.
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Seashells washed up on a beach,
Lightening racing straight to ground.
Albeit of a visual kind,
It’s beauty, just waiting to be found.