She’s a touch away, generations behind
An enigma wrapped in mascara,
Cleopatra in mittens, Desdemona defined
With the sweet scent of Scarlett O’Hara

She strums some strings in tender tune
With a melody’s voice so gently
I crave to believe as I howl at the moon
When she sang of her love she meant me

My cartoon brain scribbles scenes in panels
Bubbled words floating over my head
While asleep she poses, dreaming in flannels
On a phantasmagorical bed

Longing to adore being desperately charmed
My impossible dream is eternally armed.