My baby don't talk much but when she talks, she produces the sweetest sounds I know.
She doesn't cry out for attention but her eyes betray her; and melt my heart.
She ain't 100 degrees hot but she sure is as fine as the word could be.
Sleek and beautiful, not too flashy but stylish. That's how I like them and I got myself a good deal.
She's a storyteller, telling stories of times that were, times present and times to come. Rich in history and possesses a tongue, wise like that of a serpent.
Beauty is encased in her body, where the heart reverberates with brilliance. Right in her bosom where all fears, worries bad anxieties are settled. Where hope is rekindled and joy set ablaze
I love you my love
My guitar
No comments:
Post a Comment