The perfect girl

Her blonde hair a wave,
Those eyes like chocolate chips,
My favorite aspect of her body of all,
Those perfect curves she calls her hips.

Her body a mesmerizing totem,
As she dances with the beat,
I study every movement,
From her eyes to her feet,

Her graceful whispers,
Make but not a peep,
They quiet my soul,
As I drift off to sleep,

This poem is to remind you,
That even though you don\'t care,
Some poor guy like me,
Is wishing you were there.