Her coy, endearing laugh and subtle smile.
Her chestnut hair, so perfect all the time.
Her eyes are blue – or green…or brown?
or grey…or hazel…but they never frown.
Her lips are red if happy, pink if cold.
Her mind is wise as if she were quite old.
Her teeth are straight – well, with Invisalign.
She’s lithe and nimble as a graceful vine.
She gave me help with physics and with math,
she cut my vegetables in cooking class,
she helped perfect our group in history,
but never saw herself within my poetry.
And though she should know how I feel and such,
I’d rather if the secret was kept hush.
Aww, that's nice! you must tell "her" by graduation or else you'll be lost forever.
ReplyDeletebut y'know, even though it's just for the poem, it's kinda sad not to know what colour her eyes are, especially if she's the love of your life.