Since the poet does in me dwell,
Which, by now, you can surely tell,
For you I will try to clear well
The sweet sounds of your bell.
Though your question may be true,
Simply answered: why not you?
You noted each virtue
Which was important to you.
I just called on your pew,
For we share more than a few.
I do like romantic
With loving ecstatic,
And cuddles fantastic;
And though I'm a jokester,
Even a punster,
Really a funster,
Someday you might tell from my kisses
What my soul really misses;
You might feel from my palms
My cravings and alms;
You might see in my heart
How much of me you might be a part.
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There are other reasons
For wishing your seasons.
One is an old fascination
For natural red coloration.
I hope for your approbation,
This fanciful speculation:
Long russet hair - down to your neck;
Rouge covered lips - just dying to peck;
Hot crimson cheeks - fun on the deck;
Fully blushed face - oh, what a trek!