Behind a bush by the brook,
Sits a lady reading a book,
Overheard she is royalty,
And is reading about loyalty.
Wading to the edge,
I watch her flip a page,
She must know of my presence,
As the air is filled with her essence.
Her skin is chocolate,
Eyes hidden under charcoal lashes,
I love her and I hope I'm not late,
Even though I might burn to ashes.
Her nose suits her face; perfect,
Her dimple caving into her right cheek; deep,
My situation may not be perfect,
But my love for her is very deep.
Her legs long and slender,
Her waist thin and tender,
She knows I'm studying her,
'Cause she laughs, ha!
N.M
