She's a brown-eyed girl
with the softest red hair,
Both seem to sparkle
As the sun shines the air

she has a heart so pure
With a voice so sweet,
suspended somewhere between
where real and dreams meet

There's a tingle to her touch
In her fingertips a spark,
The flame that is felt
Is a light to the dark

A flashback to a time
Before life moved too fast,
A classic beauty plucked
From a picture of the past

Longing now for a day
Ms. Mary feels the same,
Here friendzoned stuck
Writing poems so lame...