Treasure Poem by Macy Fawenden

There's no test for love, it's hard to tell
If you're in it or not, but she knows too well
That I love her taste and feel and smell
Excuse my french, mais elle est belle

I'm too happy to think about loss
But paranoia grows on me like moss
I'm instantly infatuated every time our paths cross
By the sight of her beautiful curls and lip gloss

And I know that it's stupid to be afraid
That the brightness of love will eventually fade
I've counted my chickens before the eggs have even been laid
And with that I'll be left in the shade

(But when you're in love you do know it
Because in love, everyone is a poet)