Roses are red, Violets are blue, If you were a flower, I couldn't thank you. Luckily for me, You are a person, Whose brilliant colour, Deserves a mention, Or two. Keep facing the sky, And catching the drops, Keep holding the breeze, And stopping the clocks. More than colour, In a meandering walk, You are a warmth, To the searching heart. Thanking you!
Sometimes, the world seems crumpled, Pointlessly dressed, Hopelessly shaded, And we, lightbulbs that flicker, Setting off a flailing light, A weak flame of ectoplasm, Not heard by the universe. Then, something changes, A soul of kindness, Defies the howling doubt, The lifeless soil, Smiling through the hailstorm. Then the universe does know, And icicles fall on Pluto, Spring time awakens, Eyes are reborn. If only every person Could know you.
There I was, Throwing my fists at the sky, Raging against destiny, Cursing its horrible lie. I had narrowed eyes, And pointed mouth, Hiding the dagger array, Of aching tooth. I was a shrinking mess, Behind the warrior mask, The red warning crest. I was stabbing and flailing, With desperate yells, Dizzy with aimless swing. Then you came And whispered in my ear The battle ended Then and there.
It must be the elves, On sabbatical from Santa, Or the gnomes, Neglecting their horticulture. Perhaps those pixies, Carried by wings and glitter, Or the legendary leprechaun, Hopped across from Eire. Of course, it was none of these, But you, A most supernatural creature.