A Sculpture of Beauty

This girl is the type imagined in dreams
A sculpture of beauty (though that sounds extreme)

She seems like a princess that knows she’ll be queen
Or maybe a model from some magazine

Whenever she’s seen people will stare
She kindly responds with her nose in the air

But it wouldn’t be fair to say she’s a snob
It isn’t so easy to be a heartthrob

It’s not for a job which she goes to each day
That her features are blessed in each little way

And maybe she’s lucky for how she turned out
But she is the cutest beyond any doubt

Her black hair about as dark as could be
Calls to the world that she’s something to see

While her pretty, black eyes stay on alert
Always on guard so she doesn’t gets hurt

She never wears skirts; they just aren’t her style
But no one has seen her without a big smile

And while she is smiling she’ll steal a heart
But one man’s her baby; till death do they part

No work of art could compare against her
Her innocent aura is gleamingly pure

She stirs up emotions in all that she’s met
This is one woman no one will forget

Charlotte’s her name and she sleeps on my bed
And loves when I’m scratching her cute, puppy head

Copyright © 2007 Ken McCardell

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