I thought I’d write the type of poem
for a person that you love, a woman.
Not a long extravagant one;
it wouldn’t suit her, not this one.
Not a sonnet, not a limerick,
she would never even hear of it.
But an old familiar classic-
ah, here, this one has it!
“Roses are red, violets are blue,”
but neither of these describe you.
They are way too gaudy, elegant,
and while they are distinctly feminine,
you bear a much closer resemblance
to the wildflower- simple fluorescence.
Not for sale, not like all others,
I’d find you out in nature’s wonders.