The Beau On the Cutie Pie

Soothing, lissome; render the facsimile of its Heart; Such a spright with adore imbued. ‘Er pelt’s so sleek; as petite fry’s In its nurse’s, gentle and suckling: The only Cutie-pie on my heart. Realism in its mettle glints joie de vivre, As doeth molten chaste gold in the forge; a Knoll of whose acme other inamoratas feign. Such An Alkebulan nymph of finest of lustre imagined: The one and only on the heart. Nymph of great splendor so priced, Guarantees anew that adoring even more I stay; Or peril I at rivals shameful losses, awaiting My heart’s intensely pricked – broken: As if it weren’t the only Cutie-pie on my heart. Beauty as embossed on it and in Every milieu envisioned, of itself no ill utters; Making it the solo etch on this conquered heart, And of those who in split or full, fray pro-reign Over the one and only on the heart. Hells all abhorrence merited, it deters! Anti-doting each time desolation's endured, Thus, it insures my glee agst perils viable; Agst rivals in places – a reassuring haven: The only Cutie-pie on my heart. In its blissful eye’s such an unfaked Love that soothes like no cool draft does; Optically reassuring in such ways it’s my Venus, the finest of icons in the realms of adore: The one and only on the heart. Every songbird that hums its tune, Yens for the arpeggio worthy the hymn for One sylph in a million – for its admirers reverie; ‘Until fatality do us part’, in their self-deceited yen For the only Cutie-pie on my heart.