I think I like her,

But I don't want to over complicate things.

I mean,

That really doesn't help anyone—ever.


Fine, if you insist.

She's very neatandsweet,

Very kind, the sort that's hardtofind.

Fine, I'll slow down a tad.


Yes she's pretty,

The sort of pretty that's natural and somehow


But she doesn't wear make-up.


She is odd,

But in a good way,

Good for me at least:

She makes me laugh and feel at home.


She's "smart", whatever that means these days,

The kind of wit that's sometimes hard to see,

But yet you know it's there

Just waiting to find the energy to speak.


You know, she's also very serious sometimes,

Very solemn in her stride.

I guess that's good,

For me at least.


She's just the way she is,

But I'm not sure if she's good for me.

I mean, I like her, but do I...

What's the word?


No, not love.

Or yes love?

No. Yes. Yes. No. Wait. Oh

See this is why I did not want to over complicate things.