Beauty Is A Sin

A poem by my friend Val:

But not so softly did she walk through the silken mist
Ethereal, yet staid like stone
Always wandering, always staggering, always haunting through that sultry mist
Under bridges and street lights did she walk like stone
Touched only by sincere words, not by sincere hands
You know, she was never touched at all

In times of modern desire and passions afloat
Some things never seem to be noticed

And what worse than true beauty to not be noticed for

Sliding, staggering, stalking down wet cobblestone walkways
Into that solid mist of the crestfallen night
Never was she seen, never was she felt