She’s lovable, and many do:
Her sunny curiosity,
Her wry and skewed verbosity,
Her smile insecure —
She’s lovable, for sure.

She’s lovable, and has a clue:
Sometimes, unwanted overtones,
And others, ringed with safety cones,
One step above a waif —
For lovable’s not safe.

But she has risen from the worst,
The pangs of hunger, and of thirst
Are still there in her memory;
And fresh as any pains can be,
And snug as any shoe —

She’s lovable, it’s clear and true:
But she would give it all away
For one more hour, one more day
With him; the one who she preferred,
And who was lovable

To her

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

4 thoughts on “Lovable”

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