Why Do You Love Me? Poem by Fiona Schwartzinoff

Why do you love me?

Is it because of my charming smiles?
Do they really shine for miles?

Is it the beauty of my auburn tresses
That rebel into undulating messes?

You obviously have not seen my bad-hair days.


Perhaps it’s a glint in my eye
That you’ve somehow spied.

It is because my figure is lovely?
Of course not! because it’s not in the least stunning.

Unless it stuns in a bad sort of way…



Is it because of my youth which seems to glow?
Is it because of my being not quite tall and not too low?

Might it be my voice?
Or the wit I use in choice?

I rehearse all my clever come-backs, you know.


Maybe it’s the tinkling laughter I may conjure
When I hear a tale of comic adventure?

You know, I also chuckle like a pig sometimes.
You might enjoy my amusement more if I mime.


Is it because my skin is not a pale as snow?


Frankly, that’s because of my freckles
And occasional pimples that heckle.

Is it the way that I choose words?
The way I may sing as the birds?

I could languidly warble like a cow just as well;

Do you love me for the way I may pretend to be a saint?
Is it the way that I may tilt my face to seem so quaint?

I can fight like a lioness, and roar like her mate
I can boom, and scream, and stomp, and hate.

If you’d known, you may not love me as well.


Might it be because of mere chance?
That you happened to like me well at first glance?

No... for could mere chance create such emotion?
To randomly spring forth with ecstatic solution


Can your “love” be triggered by just that?

Should you love me for these reasons,
I’d rather you not love me; for through the seasons

Of life, all that shall pass away.
Gone; blown away with yesterday.

So without further ado, I’ll just leave it at that.