Creature of Beauty

I remember a lass with a countenance I've never met before. She was of no celestial citizenship, nor were her features immortal. But rather she possessed a pair of eyes that were black and piercing. There was no sparkle in them, but they glistened with honesty. Her hair was neither straight nor lustrous, but thick and rich with waves like an angry ocean, billowing down her face. Its colour was not that of the sun, nor as scarlet as the sunset. Her hue was the colour of the earth, untainted as her coarse midnight hair rode the wind. And as she walked, the heavens noticed, for she didn't possess any expected charms, but her integrity gave her the aura of a goddess. And when she smiled, she sought not to seduce, but nevertheless, she captured hearts and treated them with care. For she cared for those she loved. She cared to those she despised, but as for herself, she cared to be alive and nothing more. This mortal, many would claim as ordinary. She wasn't a fairy or an intellectual. She wasn't an angel, but she belonged to the earth. She possessed no wings or powers. Her magic came from her character. Wit and affection were her instruments. She wasn't imaginary, she was natural. She was human. She was a woman. She was beautiful.