To My Friend Rose
You are reading a trashmag and your eyes are in shadow.
An observer would not see your green, green eyes.
You are flicking through the pages, scanning quickly
As you drink your tea from your china rose blue, blue mug.
“Oh for god’s sake, she’s not pregnant”, you exclaim.
An observer might note your leading lady beauty mole
And your blue mug, your slimline skirt, your high heels,
Your shirt pulled taut across your sporty shape,
But not see
The loyalty, friendship, generosity
Love dammit, in those green eyes
But I do (lucky me)