Beautiful

OLD LADY:

Changing

It keeps changing

I see towers

Where there were trees

Going,

All the stillness,

The solitude,

Georgie

Sundays

Disappearing

All the time,

When things were beautiful...

GEORGE:

All things are beautiful,

Mother

All trees, all towers,

Beautiful

That tower—

Beautiful, Mother,

See?

A perfect tree

GEORGE(OLD LADY):

Pretty isn't beautiful, Mother,

Pretty is what changes

What the eye arranges

Is what is beautiful (Fading...)

I'm changing

You're changing (It keeps fading...)

GEORGE:

I'll draw us now before we fade,

Mother

OLD LADY:

It keeps melting before our eyes

GEORGE:

You watch while I revise the world

OLD LADY:

Changing,

As we sit here—

Quick, draw it all,

Georgie!

OLD LADY, GEORGE:

Sundays—

OLD LADY:

Disappearing

As we look

GEORGE:

Look!...

Look!...

OLD LADY:

You make it beautiful

Oh, Georgie, how I long for the old view.