Anytime I raise my pen to write,  
my excerpt is a sketch of Sulty,
and those nostalgic memories.

Anytime I raise my pen to write,
I sketch ravishing images of her,
my nightingale.

Anytime I take my pen to write,
I carve no shenanigan images
of her, but of the comeliness
of her love twitching  my
blood stream.

Anytime I raise my pen to write,
my ink is full with the gravity of her
love, ready is my pen to write of the
bonny of her beauty.