As the sun sets on 17

Stranger Danger..., through the bus window, Of mid July..., At a loss of words he complemented, 🤫 In blue ink he rhymed. The paragraph person he was. The only way he'd check ✅ the boxes of the deeds she deserves, For if kisses were reanimated to raindrops he'd send her showers🚿, If hugs were ticking seconds... He is bound to spend her hours ⏳, If treasures were flowers, He'd grow her a garden of 🌹 the most Golden roses. If appreciation was water..., I'd master it... t'aime it only to pour you the seven seas..., But the unfortunately these little presents of..., Showers, hours, roses and seas..., won't suffice the gratitude he holds for her knowing you right from 14, And now knocking on the is 18, She blossoms to a new crown from a princess to the queen she now is, He says to the maiden. "I'd say I wish you a spark at the throne but I'd hate for you to feel the burn of the flame that I'll shortly fad. So instead...allow me to wish you a river. For your joy deserve to be free, Allow me to wish you a river. For it's it's bank taids hold nutrition to sprout trees. Trees that offer you the deepest of your cravings. And may you sail on peace...as this river pervades into the sea." He prayed like he does today.