MISS DESIREE (2G11 year group) |
I speak not of that which time,
Like some unwelcomed guest
Arrives to steal away...
I speak of that
Which cannot be measured,
Or weighed,
By human hands.
I imagine your warmth
Like that of welcomed sunshine
On a frosty, winter morning.
I speak of your fragrance
Like the smell of cool, crisp air
After a short, April shower.
I imagine your taste,
Like that of ice-cold lemonade,
On a hot, steamy night.
I speak of your color,
Like that of the first blue bonnet
Swimming in a sea of green.
But in the end
I realize that no one word,
Or sentence can fully capture
The essence of who you are.
For to fully appreciate you,
One must experience you,
Like the vinter tasting
The first glass of new wine.....
well.........
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