A cliché: the way her hair catches the light,
A cardinal corona so casually light.
When he sees her passing by, although his tongue
is dry as old ham, his heart is blissfully light.
The little red-haired girl has her own gravity,
Floating above the others, impossibly light.
She is an ecosystem, a bright world complete
Where the darkest clouds bring only sunlight.
He has a head full of magnets drawn to her,
Each thought turns like a flower towards the early light.
He sends a left-handed unsigned Valentine so cryptic
his chances of success remain defiantly slight.