Just so everyone understands, I wrote this as a note of apology to one of my co-workers whom I had made angry at me. I told her things like ŇI am dog crap on the sidewalk of life,Ó and ŇI am the black crud inbetween the toenails of the wandering rhino of life,Ó but she would not forgive me for what I had said. I actually don't blame her. She was all of 16 years old at the time, and I had said she looked like an old spinster. When she went on her break, I decided to write a poem extolling her beauty, to make her feel better, and get her to forgive me. It was not meant in any way other then that, and should not be taken as such. I sat down during my lunch, and worked solely on this poem for the entire half hour. I didnŐt eat, or do anything else. I just wrote it out. And itŐs really funny, cause she read it, and looked at me and said... ŇNo.Ó I think it helped though, cause she didnŐt give me her look of death anymore after that. A couple weeks later, i realized that I had written this during a very low point in my life, and i decided to change certain parts of it so it fit the only girl outside of my family i felt i could really trust at that time. So, here is my poem extolling the beauty of one lady (you know who you are) in particular, and everyone in general, and if any of you guys find yourself in a scrape, you can go ahead and use this poem, if it isnŐt too cheesy, that is. It might be. I write stories, not poems. Here it is. I apologize if this is really cheesy.
Her beauty spreads a rumor
Far across the fabled lands;
Stories of her lurid form
Raven Hair, and perfect hands.
Her movements made in style,
Always formed of perfect grace.
Her features small and beautiful
And ne'er is there a trace
Of any blemish on her skin
Or on her pretty frame
She emphasizes all thatŐs good
Perfection is her name.
Her youth is like a flower,
Always beautiful and fair.
The moon and stars are envious
Of her long and lovely hair.
Her eyes, they twinkle like the stars,
Like two halves of a gem
And when you look into their depths,
You lose yourself in them.
The Stories tell of kindness,
Of the goodness of her heart;
How everything she says and does
Is like a work of art.
Truly I made a mistake
An error in my ways.
This is a move I shall regret,
For the rest of my days.
All I ask (and if you want,
I'll get down on my knees),
Is for you to forgive me.
So will you? Pretty Please?
