If ever a word were used to describe a dame,
That captured her beauty and elegance as it flowed,
That caught her intelligence as clearly as it showed,
Then that was the word for you they proclaim.
You walk like a queen with your head raised high,
Yet you act like you owe everyone a favor,
You don’t ask for attention but you demand your respect,
To put it straight, your perfect.
You befriend everyone you can none is your enemy,
Yet you don’t associatte yourself with complacency,
You know who is straight and who is suspect,
What can I say, your perfect
You dine with kings yet keep your common touch,
And Tom Dick and Harry all fight to get up your skirt,
Your always alert and just smile as you flirt and playfully turn them down,
You never get mad or even a little upset,
Maybe that’s why I think, your perfect.
You look in my eye and expect a reply,
To the question which I never even heard,
And it is quite absurd as I can’t find the words I so wish to say,
Maybe I will tell you I love you maybe I’ll say your the best,
But the words that would be truest if spoken,
Would simply be, to me it seems, that darling,