I’d like to caress and hold
Your hair of spun gold.
So far, I’ve dallied,
As I’m yellow-bellied.
 
You only need look my way,
And all I wanted to say,
Fly out from the interior;
Next to you, I’m inferior.

Think of you, I’ll get a fever,
My tummy will quiver.
All over me, blood rushed,
Embarrassingly, face flushed.

Wonder when I’ll manage
To pluck up enough courage;
It’s you I hope to court,
After cowardice is fought.

*Photo credit Ryanniel Masucol from Pexels