Her eyes tell stories
That smile lights up my world
Her hair flows behind her
In creamy chocolate curls.
Her laugh is like the bells
tinkling on a Christmas eve
Her voice is like the nightingale
Singing below the moon, above the creek.
Behold the way she flutters by
Brilliant with such unending ease
the grace she carries in her tiny frame
in that body so lithe.
She's like a rose in graveyard
a sign of life amongst the death
a speck of colour between the greys
whiffs of hope in every breath.
Oh ! To know her, and really know her
is a treasure in itself,
But sometimes I can't help but wonder
If I could have her just for myself.