Snobanks
by saxsquatch
She wasn’t the most beautiful thing too look at
but she could catch your eye
like a diamond speck floating in a snowdrift
on a frozen winter morning.
(Well,
not a real diamond speck,
but I’d call it close enough
if you asked me)
Her voice was not a singer’s voice
but it spoke so perfectly, so beautifully,
that a philistine such as I could
hardly comprehend her utterings.
But alas, her temerity opposed
my trepidation so extremely that I,
disheartened and forlorn, am left
on a frozen winter morning,
sifting through the snowbanks
for another diamond speck
