I thought I’d met a man

Who saw the real me.

He held a buttercup beneath my chin.

 

He said “My God!

You don’t like butter!

I’ve never heard of that before!

You are a living miracle!

For every maiden’s chin blushes with gold

When beneath her face

A lovely buttercup I hold”

 

I was impressed for he was right.

I don’t like butter.

Butter makes me sick.

And this man knew,

He could really see,

He’d got right to the inner heart of me!

 

But then I found,

Another heartbreak later,

That he was only teasing me

about my pale white chin.

That he was lying,

I was just like all the rest.

He never saw the real me at all.

And he was only joking when he said

That he loved me the best.

 

 

photo carolineskywalker