you were beautiful once

I heard a story say

it talked about your glory

such beautiful music you played

from that battle-worn harp of yours

it talked about you--

in past tense, as if a memory

as if no longer existent

as if you no longer are

that all we could do is

love you, hate you

marvel at you, dream about you

you were not beautiful once

you are beautiful now

those dust-covered wings

still sparkle in the sun's

almost-forgotten rays

how I long to see them once more

spread out for flight

and sweep--no envelope me

as we drown into the night

do not believe the story

mere mortals write

you were not beautiful once

you are beautiful now.

A/N: You were one of my very first readers. Thank you for always being there.