Beaut

In a quiet lane where lilacs sigh,
A single rose unfolds its hue,
Petals blushing soft as sky,
A modest bloom, a gentle brew.

Its fragrance drifts on evening air,
A whispered promise, sweet and low,
Each breath a kiss, each moment fair—
Nature’s own endearing show.

When sunlight kisses dew‑kissed grass,
And shadows play in amber light,
The world feels wrapped in quiet class,
A simple joy, a pure delight.

So let us cherish this small grace,
The modest splendour that we find—
For true delight wears no gilt face,
Just honest beauty, true and kind.