Beauty

[elsibethann]

O pretty skies
  above my head
of foolish eyes
  fresh from a bed,
is beauty wise?

For when I spread
for schoolish fools,
  how was I paid
of pretty jewels,
  a riverbed

of useless tools,
  the pretty flowers
of broken rules
  and foolish hours
and hidden truths?

Atop my towers
of pretty rocks,
  ask I of powers
of foolish clocks
  if wisdom sours?

Who may outfox
  these pretty stars
by rusted locks
  on foolish hearts,
beat in a box?

How wisdom’s arts,
O pretty night,
  diverts the darts
of foolish fright
  I’ve heard in parts;

yet beauty bright
  as pretty stones,
though it may white
  my foolish bones,
is’t wisdom’s light?

My folly knows
me fool enough
  amid the moans
of pretty love ..
  and yet ..
              there groans

a gaping gulf,
  a pretty death,
the beautiful bluff
  of foolish breath --
and diamond tough.

love,
Elsie

in my tree