She was a phantom of delight,
When first she gleamed upon my sight.
A carefully packaged paradoxical being,
But in reality the complete opposite of what I was seeing.
A hopeless believer in the doings of fate,
Always talking about wanting to procreate.
A constant source of chronic stress,
But today for you my admiration I profess.
To call her normal would be totally absurd,
To describe her is impossible in one word.
But if a word for her I had to pick,
Fighter is the one with which I would stick.
She’s been fractured and hurt,
Broken down and messed around.
But you can bet on her to brush it off,
To work for her ambition she is forever bound.
She may have lost a move but not the game,
It’ll only burn brighter that fighter’s flame.
That inspiring work ethic and that aggressive drive,
Its been a treat and an honour to see her thrive.
She’s a vixen with a taste in vintage wine,
Expensive taste and a gorgeous smile.
And oh dear girl to you I say,
Push all you want but I am here to stay.