Bright red hair, and a quirky dame,
free, yet suppressed, queer, yet pretty,
she is one that you cannot tame,
I lose my speech my remarks no longer witty,
When flashes across my mind, her name.
I sat contemplating whether to let flow my words,
as a simple blog entry or as exquisite poetry,
with sounds gentle as the fluttering of love birds,
or of words written simply yet pleasant to thee.
I started jotting down this prose,
for it befitted the lovely lady,
rare, perhaps as a blue rose,
and yet quite scarily shady.
Hazel brown eyes, bright blue glasses,
a multitude of tics, and quirky as hell,
those abrupt, blunt, so often backlashes,
followed by a soft, gentle and charming spell.
She is a rare pearl, this I have come to know,
Brief moments with her, are ones to recall,
Alas! There is no future for 'us' where we may go,
And we finding ourselves doing nothing but stall.
There is something of our own we could have,
special, memorable, joyous, and carefree,
She quite wants it too, this suspicion I have,
Why then does she makes it so difficult for me.