I want to sing you a ballad
As you choosily pick at your salad.
While at it wish you can hazard
A guess as to who’s mastered
The landscape and terrain
Of your voluptuous body with less mental strain
And painstaking care, noting every nook, cranny and vein
So it’s etched in the fabric of my brain.
The rose in my hand is wilting
I think it’s in supplication to the refreshing
Garden in your heart that’s bristling
With freshness and that’s not surprising.
As you enchant me with your spellbinding smile
Hope you can bob your head to my tune all the while.