Sonnet to SL

Sonnet to SL

My love is tall and handsome, but not dark;

his hair's the color of a sparrow feather.

His eyes don't flash, they're simply green or brown

depending on his outfit and the weather.

He doesn't drive a fancy car; he walks

with heart and mind wide open, sure and slow.

He lies back with his bookbag for a pillow;

I watch his face and voice make stories grow.

He doesn't send me flowers, but he does

ask me for my opinion on his work.

And does he have a six-pack? I don't know -

I haven't seen him yet without a shirt.

Yet all my other joys grow pale and thin,

just sitting on a dew-wet lawn with him.