I wrote to the lily today again
By now I know not to wait at the post for a package with my name attached
Tomorrow she'll send me a text and say it's so her message doesn't get delayed by the rain
But I know the truth we both leave unhatched
It's not really that she can't feel or tell my pain
It's only that her envelopes' correspondents are all already matched
And alas! They're not addressed poor Timi but to Adecoker Cain,
the phantom name I've gifted the Prince she impatiently awaits, so she can pencil him in on her neck chain
I call her my lily but to say she'll be truly mine someday is a little far-fetched
For how do you hope to woo a lady with a figurine of the perfect suitor up in her head made out of porcelain?
How do you hope to woo a lady when all of you can't add up to a piece of her dreams, even scratched...