Mary Anne

Oh Mary Anne,

The way you walked into his heart,

Wearing those short heels,

Long sleeves,

And those Baggy pants, 

You sure are bossy pants,

You felt like that rain,

That comes unexpected,

On a hot midsummer day,

That cools up everything around,

Spreading that sweet smell of petrichor,

Making everything pleasant all around,

Maybe you are what brings spring,

Or maybe you're his spring,

That divides his extremities into nonexistence,

After all, 

All one needs is one small comfort season.

To have the proximity,

The thoughts, the closeness even,

This comfort brings.

Oh Mary Anne,

The way he looks at you,

Like how one looks at their favorite painting,

The colours of it,

The details in it, 

And the more you find with each look at it,

While being completely lost in it,

Where time and space don't even intrude,

Not even his own thoughts that pulse through,

It's just you, your hair, that face, those eyes,

That hypnotises him,

So that he's lost in a world,

Where everything's alright,

And you're his,

And both of you're walking hand in hand,

And away to a world far away,

So as to find solace,

Or was it happiness,

He wouldn't know, 

For he felt everything,

When he was with her.