Hazel

There is a boy with hazel eyes and a mess of red hair.

His skin is white and he does delight in women creamy fair.

His eyes o how they do change color in the sunny September air.

He smells like you; like Spring inside of Winter including his hair.

Your skin the color of brown coffee mixed with cream does not compare.

I think sometimes I would have loved him but not like you and would’ve loved an heir.

But he’s not mine.

I think it fine;

If I just secretly love him there.

With your sad eyes that turn hazel,

My forest green, o my forest green