Bearing the burden of her greasy teen
She walks nearer to the lovely shore
Her mind weaving a satin nest of fantasy
Uncertain and lost she gazes at shells, sand and its shinny core
If the flora of her bosom is the gift of heaven
Then why does her heart flees away like a bird quite clever?
Harmful are not those enticed eyes that tease her temper
But the honey soaked tickle that makes her moral feeble