This is not a love letter,
No, it's a letter about your eyes.
Deep and blue like oceans,
Yet warm and smiling
Like the Santa Ana winds.

Never a love letter,
But a letter about your hands.
Big and clumsy,
They fit perfectly around mine, so
I don't need gloves.

I won't write a love letter.
I will write a letter about what you already know:
I'm forever yours, and you
The boy with the Santa Ana eyes,
Are forever mine.