She
She has to be this,
She has to be that.
She has to have this,
She has to have that.
But is she really she?
The she that is for me.
Or is she just a she,
A she I'd wish to see.
A she I wish to have,
A she of an ideal half.
A she as a surface,
But not of real purpose.
A she that is she,
But only a she to herself.
If for years I must wait,
To accidentally meet this she.
A she I'd wish to see,
A she as real as me.
A she that catches my eye,
A she who's gentle to my heart.
This she I'd pace for,
A she I'd phase more.
A she with her ponytail just right,
A she with a demeanor, kid-like.
A she romantically cold,
Yet a lava to God then me.
A she naturally sarcastic,
A she willfully enthusiastic.
A she who values me,
A she who doesn't just vow to love me,
A she who just doesn't remain she,
A she now with me,
A she now we.
|