A paragon is what you are
my mind's ideal in all you do
but I've no evidence at all,
so how can I get over you
I don't know if you snore in bed
or slurp your coffee from the cup,
re-use yesterday's plate instead
of getting on with washing up.
And are you all that you appear
you look the best a girl could be
How much of that is artifice
or haute couture and corsetry
For all I know is what I see
An angel sitting on a cloud
You are the perfect one for me
I think, but never say out loud.
So all the questions will remain
and all the boxes stay unticked
Reality will never stain
my perfect bubble left unpricked.