I was a bonafide, happy beautician, like a gorgeous, daisy sun as it is rising;
And charming, happy faces were my pursuit, like silvery moonlight uprising.
My days were a flurry of manicures and facials, like nature's green revisions,
Or gardens and fields sprouting colors, due to hidden, mysterious decisions.
I loved ruby, pleasant hours of work, and the valued customers all loved me,
Like the cool attraction which sparkles, between verdant land and green sea.
I visited fond friends, in the finally sunset, just as treasured gold was fading,
Ending another day of the old friendships, with the mysterious stars invading.
My flourishing family feasted and frolicked, by fevered fields of emerald fancy,
Laughing all along a jasmine June, in butterscotch, hot zones of purple pansy.
I lived in the house of sangria velvet, where a mellow moon caressed dreams;
And variable stars winked at nightingales, far over blue, murmuring streams.
My sassy street was bathed in warm honey, in the traditional, summery habit,
Glazed flowers giving introductions to each home, in rich colors, so elaborate.
Nice neighbors visited in the noontime, when pink, nomadic clouds wandered,
Giving ideas on politics or good books, like the rainbow a storm just conjured.
Pretty summer was dressed up in saffron, while the clouds wore delicate lace,
Drifting off to a violet-blue somewhere, exuding cool, airy grace in anyplace.
Thick weeping willows swept placid lakes, in the swift season of the songbird,
When countless fireflies ruled evening dusk, as the stars glittered disordered.
One fine day found me at an art gallery, in an enormous room of many faces,
Portraits ranging from the young to very aged, among flowers set up in vases.
The faces soon captured my interest, each one alike, yet each one so unique;
And every one assuming a different expression, both modern art and antique.
Their expressions were many and varied, hinting at emotions that captivated;
Like deep-set eyes touched by sorrow, or weariness, like the sun that's faded.
I saw unquenchable youthful ebullience, laughing with innocent eyes of glee,
And hands that bespoke of honest labor, of loving family and making money.
Eyes so dark and filled with mystery, like the black bloom of hot, sable night;
And the enigmatic, mere suggestion of a smile, like blithe glow of candlelight.
The faces of the aged had joy and dignity, like warm, peaceful, pastel sunrise,
Or curiosity, wonder, or disappointment; and perhaps secret love in her eyes!
As I left the chamber of divers faces, I felt I'd come face to face with beauty,
As is the case with an open, honest portrayal, like a colorful still life, so fruity.