Perfect and elegant, like some statuette,
Impossible to touch
She seems just like a silhouette.
Behind brown eyes,
Behind the looking glass,
She sees
All the men, who've fallen for her,
Their shattered knees.
Unbalanced, I'd become,
Upon passing her on the staircase,
As she'd walk, in her quick pace,
Hair, brown, curly at the ends,
Brushing the banisters top,
Sweet and addictive,
Like a narcotic lollipop.

-Jamie F. Nugent