Ode to the Short-Haired Girl

Alas, my short-haired queen with fire and spunk,

It’s true your beauty may be above par,

But short hair does not make my heart go plunk,

I’ll pretend to see you not at the bar.

 

Yea, your heart is sweet and pure as springtime,

Skin soft as a doe; eyes vast as the sky,

Your lips red and sweet as a cherry-wine,

And even a wit to match any guy.

 

Yet I will not stop, nor give you a glance,

No friendly exchange, no saucy harass,

Refused a chance at a night of romance,

And when I leave, slap your friend on the ass.

 

Believe it or not, locks don’t get the guy,

It’s your brains and hearts- so keep out an eye.