To all the beautiful women on AD

You make my days full of vim.

Tough I am old and rickety

I need no horse to pull me.

You words, your eyes, multicolored,

As there are so many of you.

I dare not choose who's the best;

Can one select a rose from a rose bush?

But I buoyed each as I view you,

And read your enchanting prose.

To your husband, a suitor or an angel,

It lifts my spirits too, in my imagination.

Some lucky man now holds you,

In you dreams, your arms, in your talks.

That lift his heart, though he's away,

Letting you know it will beat forever for you.