To the phantom girl I admire,
Who’s heart is center to desire,
The love, the one, for whom I do rise,
I surely do love your what-colored eyes.

The way they sparkle in the setting sun,
Or longingly hold the moon as the one,
Too look up to, adhere to, adore,
I love them like always, maybe, for sure.

Just as I love you for all that you are,
A “what if” kind of joy, a gift to my heart,
For all your perfections and wants that I see,
I’ll always love you, forever, maybe.