Speaking Hues

Young Lass.

Lazy claims, black curls
Gleaming brown pearls, rolling places
Glides and swims imaginary oceans
Playful gazes underneath glasses
Clumsy sport, pure emotions
Often theatrical privileges
Witty utterance, she is peanut butter and jelly
Boat smile opens to shining diamonds
Rosy red, her face, she is an ace
Giggles, music to ears
Emitting energy, sometimes a lethargy
She's beauty with brains
Pouring everywhere her gracious rain
Adored by all, got by none
‘Can her heart not be won by anyone?
Who is she, do I know?’
She is me, the thing I owe.

-Anisa