Your caramel splashed strands, they could not describe;
A billion times told–far more lovelier than what a spoken word
could sketch on a stone slab cold and blind.
But a picture often misleads, as do movies often occur profusion,
And so–I cannot express a feeling in a glossy framed shot,
But only hope your cover does not attract me to a well trod corner,
Where dust and spiders do well cover that beautiful ugly spot.
Oh–may your glorious false hair shine forth the true her–
Please tell me beauty is more than just in the eye of the wanting,
That the blind, and for that the deaf, don’t have unwanted pocket deuces,
That the lucky and the blessed–Nature’s chosen that go flaunting–
Do well hope for a lustful virgin–whose legs tremble from more than life juices.