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.