May I write you a song?
About you as an angel righting my wrongs.
Lord knows I cannot sing.
As well as me unsuited to do a lot of things.
But your second nature smile is sectioned first in my mind.
Scenarios are pondered where I impress and sparks fly.
Though when the moment comes
for the tune to be more than hummed;
my voice and I remain backstage.
Knowing symphonies cannot be strummed and keys cannot be played.
So what is attained is some ink and a sheet of loose leaf.
Thoughts are embraced by your beauty.
Then I write away.
To a place where you will always kindly be given the right of way.
Where clever compliments are conjured to fortify your confidence.
Words of which will invade your world to serve only in excellence.
My touch will have you feeling wonderfully weak weekly.
Shyness may fade to open shades of orange to shine in on you sweetly.
The lead you read will lead to a reality where relaxing passes the hours.
Finding that your song is promptly followed by us swaying to ours.
