It's so cliche to say 'one's beauty is equal to a rose'. A rose is beautiful, yes. But so stereotpyical. So ordinarally attractive. I never compare one's image to a rose. Wild roses grow here in Alaska. They are beautiful. But alas, so is the snow. So are small, insignificant, twisting willow trees. So are cloudy evenings when the night is truly, in the deepest sense, dark. People don't think to look for beauty in things outside of what the world tells them is beautiful. The sunshine on a flower garden. Everyone says that's beautiful. But what about the way the slowly falling rain drops makes shapes on a dirty window pane? Why isn't that just as beautiful. It is. it just isn't recognized as being so.
