Grace

Your glowing smile, like children laughing, radiates like fire through frigid spells, your own merriment enriches, its appeal like distant bells. Your auburn hair, like gossamer, distilled by zephyrs' gentle beat, rejoices on your shoulders like the errant play of summer wheat. Your jaunty gait, while others wait to follow, as their lot must be, will overtake those in your wake with joyfulness and joie de vivre! Though woes may darken your bright eyes, decelerate your sprightly pace, you ne'er will mention your despair, and that, my love, is grace.