The best of morning time is seeing you,
Your rich and big chocolate-covered eyes,
And that sweet smile that tells nothing but true,
That can soften the white clouds of the sky

And tender, loving cherry-colored lips,
That makes unsleeping beauties want to kiss,
And your mysterious charcoal like hair,
That absorbs the presence of all light’s bliss,

And to hear the voice unheard by heaven,
That speaks as if a piece of Mozart’s art.
Why I wish morning went past eleven
And time be only measured by my heart

But a part that is not perfection
Is the little stain in my reflection