A troublesome tempo
that I so coolly kept
locked 'way inside my chest
for far too long-
Brought forth in time, at your behest.
Those silvery eyes must truly be
like slivers of marbles made from the
dawn high. As if an angel -in perpetuity-
had plunged from the heavens
directly to me.
She is soft, like the beat of a butterfly's wing-
and her hair, it flows like water in the wind, though
the greatest thing of all
which will, or won't, appall,
is by luck alone I've somehow become her beaux.
And truth be told,
She's got me sold.