I drank a coke with an old, close friend.
We spoke of the endless pursuit of fun
And how we'd spent the past weekend.
With dark sunglasses and faltering step,
That he had partied was easy to see;
But when he asked what wonder had caused my pep,
I said only, Susan Marie.
The bewildering, beautiful Susan Marie.
"Isn't she the one who doesn't wear makeup?"
Between every addictive and dalliant vice,
Our conversation leapt to and fro;
But even when speaking of virgin sacrifice,
My mind flew over the rainbow.
Again and again my confidante crowed
About his own latest affair,
And again and again he asked why I showed
Such attention to a girl with no cosmetic flair.
So little he knows of her beauty so rare.
"I wish you'd tell me what you see in her."
It's not that she won't take the care to appeal;
She just doesn't need all that paint to show grace.
The rouge in her cheek from humility's real
And the glow that she gets from her love is her base.
Her lashes don't need to be lengthened by fraud,
Nor her lips to be reddened by stain from a case.
No makeup is cracked by her smile sent from God,
And around her soft eyes only laughter has place.
No mask could add to her heavenly face.