Poetry

(This one's based on my definition of poetry. What is yours?)

It started at the edges of his forehead, easing the strains of worry and soothing the furrowed lines of misery there.

It flowed through the bridge of his nose and spread out, radiant, into the creases of his warm, mellow, chocolate brown eyes. It made his eyes sparkle, as if they were molten gold, as if they had a life of their own.

Like music, it flowed.

It travelled to the dimples of his soft cheeks that were lined with a week’s stubble.

It poured through, like light, seeping into every inch, corner, nook and crevice of his handsome face.  

And finally, it came to rest, breathing life into his guarded lips.

His smile, yeah, his smile was poetry!