She'd be sheepish and shy
Aggressive and wild
So unpredictable and spitfire
Mood disorder and temper tantrum
Life with her is a mixed blessing.
She's an uncanny ability to counsel
She's my virtual nanny
She's my agony aunt
Her voice is life-giving and life-enhancing.
She loves Enrique Iglesias's Rhythm Divine
Wish she were totally and absolutely mine
I leech onto her pathetically -- but she doesn't whine
She's this Mother Teresa syndrome.
She goes for her morning walk
In her lane -- or across the block
She gets breathless as she trots
But gawking passers-by put her in a spot.
She's caring like Florence Nightingale
A real princess out of a fairytale
She's grace - She's my craze
She's like a fragile, brittle flower vase.
She types everything in lower case
And, makes teeny-weeny spelling mistakes
She texts like a tweenager
Vexes me like anything
She's an ardent weekender.
She's lots of energy, zest and zeal
Her face has this perfect orange peel appearance
Faintly conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes
She'd be amorous yet shy.
She hums and fiddles
She's quite a riddle
She preens and loves all things green
She's such a drama queen.
She's petite and fair
Has short, straight -- gold or blonde streaked hair
She's ravishing, hot and sensational
Sought-after marriage material.
She sticks out her tongue
Jokes and makes fun
But it's all intended pun
She's always on the run.
She calls me crackpot
My pet name for her is honeypot
I never won the jackpot
Nor I'm a big shot.
She writes rhymes or doodles sometimes
Her voice is like diva
Looks are divine
Manners are impeccable and fine.
She's like Queen of Sheba
Or a porcelain doll
Pretty and elegant
Pity she isn't on my Facebook wall.
She paraglides or jet-skis for fun
She's bold, brave, and adventuresome
Wish I'd a bicycle built for two -- just like in Daisy Bell
We'd have ridden in tandem.
Cessna people say flying is heart-pounding, life-altering and soul-reaffirming
I've experienced it first hand too
But life with her is much more than this
Believe me Jonathan Livingston Seagull -- dude.
She gets up precisely at six
Makes breakfast of hand-picked drumsticks
Then she fixes her hair
And, goes out to the fair.
Wish I'd a tree house
Where we'd have partied all night
In a jungle -- by the bonfire
This fantasy is far-fetched -- and, will give her a fright.
Aggressive and wild
So unpredictable and spitfire
Mood disorder and temper tantrum
Life with her is a mixed blessing.
She's an uncanny ability to counsel
She's my virtual nanny
She's my agony aunt
Her voice is life-giving and life-enhancing.
She loves Enrique Iglesias's Rhythm Divine
Wish she were totally and absolutely mine
I leech onto her pathetically -- but she doesn't whine
She's this Mother Teresa syndrome.
She goes for her morning walk
In her lane -- or across the block
She gets breathless as she trots
But gawking passers-by put her in a spot.
She's caring like Florence Nightingale
A real princess out of a fairytale
She's grace - She's my craze
She's like a fragile, brittle flower vase.
She types everything in lower case
And, makes teeny-weeny spelling mistakes
She texts like a tweenager
Vexes me like anything
She's an ardent weekender.
She's lots of energy, zest and zeal
Her face has this perfect orange peel appearance
Faintly conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes
She'd be amorous yet shy.
She hums and fiddles
She's quite a riddle
She preens and loves all things green
She's such a drama queen.
She's petite and fair
Has short, straight -- gold or blonde streaked hair
She's ravishing, hot and sensational
Sought-after marriage material.
She sticks out her tongue
Jokes and makes fun
But it's all intended pun
She's always on the run.
She calls me crackpot
My pet name for her is honeypot
I never won the jackpot
Nor I'm a big shot.
She writes rhymes or doodles sometimes
Her voice is like diva
Looks are divine
Manners are impeccable and fine.
She's like Queen of Sheba
Or a porcelain doll
Pretty and elegant
Pity she isn't on my Facebook wall.
She paraglides or jet-skis for fun
She's bold, brave, and adventuresome
Wish I'd a bicycle built for two -- just like in Daisy Bell
We'd have ridden in tandem.
Cessna people say flying is heart-pounding, life-altering and soul-reaffirming
I've experienced it first hand too
But life with her is much more than this
Believe me Jonathan Livingston Seagull -- dude.
She gets up precisely at six
Makes breakfast of hand-picked drumsticks
Then she fixes her hair
And, goes out to the fair.
Wish I'd a tree house
Where we'd have partied all night
In a jungle -- by the bonfire
This fantasy is far-fetched -- and, will give her a fright.
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