Fear no messenger!
Behold the skew with a charm.
A lattice for her mystique.
Infinitely quotable…never disputable.
Only an American Beauty when holding my poor grammar in her hands.
Within seconds she can embellish my pride by provoking a grand stand.
All too often I am composed of complacency to daily duties.
Still, as mystics do, what they do!
My American Beauty can see directly through.
Ceaselessly, I am a pitiful calamity Jane misinterpreting her chores.
I am the forgotten item at a grocery store.
I am a slapstick Jester in the courtship of an American Beauty.
She is a visionary who can see right through me.