They say that she is a gem
A diamond in the rough,
While lacking all the social graces
Which some of us embraces;
She cries, 'I care not for that stuff.'
She is the unpolished gemstone
That has the potential to be a jewel,
Basically she is good hearted
But her good deeds cannot be charted;
So she makes everyone out to be a fool.
At first she seems so dubious
And also unreliable at first glance,
But after further inspection
And more thought and reflection;
You can understand her circumstance.
She lacks all the final touches
That would make her stand out in a crowd,
But what she sees as exceptional
I see only as original;
While others see a rainbow, I see a cloud.
She has so many great qualities
Though having a rough exterior,
I see in her there is a great beauty
Even though she is a bit snooty;
But then I can see the beautiful interior.
They say she is an uncut gem
Just waiting for the final touches,
Removing all the glitter and impurities
So everyone and all to see;
As a painter finishes his art with his brushes.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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Henry David Thoreau
(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862)
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