Sherrie Lane Brit

A few years ago a lass had shown,
A simple yet magnificent face ever known.
That brought contrast to a typical maiden,
Who made it throughout its beyond driven.

I used to saw her in an internet cafe,
Sitting the first row and easily seen by me.
I grabbed a chair and occupied the next seat,
To smell her fragrance and `twas really sweet.

She had a hair of a golden thread,
Every strand had shone in her rounded head.
Every glance of her eyes as she winked,
Brought tenderness as she charmingly blinked.

She wore a beautiful smile,
That everybody could ever desire.
A clear round eyes that stares,
For confusions and mild blares.

From left I can view the best angle,
From right I can see the perfect symbol;
Two add-ons for her naïve face,
Deep dimples I have to gaze.

Her teeth are white as clouds.
Her tongue is polite as it make sounds.
Her manner is flexible as rubber.
Her voice is so soft that made me shiver.

Her fingers was wrapped with thin skin,
It was as soft as cotton and her hands are clean.
Every fingertip that point in each key,
In the keyboard as what she did that day.

Every single word I can always recall,
Of how she accepted me so kewl.
Nevertheless we had a conversation,
That brought us into fraternization.

When the rain was so greedy,
No chance for us to make company,
We have had our text communication,
And meet with others in a certain location.

This girl remains a dream to me.
For now I haven’t seen her even in brevity.
To this rhyme I can tell you ardently,
Of how beautiful Sherrie Lane Brit could be….

-rastaval

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