I do not know you, but I love you. Well, maybe not love but I think you're cute
It was your smiling eyes that roped me in; almond shaped with and noiseless grin
A vacant gaze that rolls away, it wrests the words I want to say
I hardly know what to say or do when an abandoned glance is my cue
My cue, to write a song, a poem. . . . . . . . .
or plant a garden of flowers arranged in away that they spell your name and when they bloom hand you aromas
I hardly know you, but I still think of cute things to do for you.
Most of the things I will not do.
Maybe I do not have the time, Maybe you do not have the time.
Maybe I need more motivation than to think that you are cute.
Simple reciprocation revive my roots.
Maybe if I did these things they would not change a thing
Maybe I am too bashful and self-effacing,
two traits that will guarantee that my efforts will spoil and be forever-wasting.
I hardly know you, but I love you. Well maybe not love, but I think you're cute.