Thou hast the eyes of purest periwinkle
Thy lips speak beauty as they glow
And on your pale, freckled face not a wrinkle
And from thy hands creativity dost flow
Yet when a begger asketh for a coin
Thy hand doth close and thine eyes look away
Thy nose turneth up, and thy eyebrows join
For thou hath no intention to ever pay
Still when thou walketh upon the crowded road
Thy train doth follow wanting thy glances
You treat them as if they were warted toads
Shunning any chance of their romances.
____Lo, though you push my face in the mud
____It is thy forever, I'll always love
