Would you like me to tell you?

Would you like me to tell you you look like the sun?

Though hotter, and of a less blinding sort. 

It gets windy 'round here in the springtime, hon, 

And though days are longer, the summer is short. 

And old Sol in the sky burns too hot for my skin

But when it is cloudy, I miss him the more.

And all natural beauty will die in the wind

Since humans pollute, or the weather gets bored.

But your golden touch, I think that it will last

You'll never pay forward what nature demands

You won't let Death win; baby, you'll kick his ass

Even age won't adhere to your beautiful hands.  

As long as someone is still reading this scrawl

It gives you my love, and that gives you your all.