I probably shouldn’t use,

Your real name in this,

Poem,

But there is just a few things that,

I wanted to convey,

To you.

I’ve seen you,

From across that three feet of,

Mahogany,

Always dressed,

To kill,

And kill you do.

The way that you,

Gracefully wash,

The bar counter,

Pour my whiskey,

Smile that,

Wonderful smile.

And how could I,

Forget the time,

That you brushed my nose,

With the tip,

Of your finger,

What a state,

You left me in,

Mandy. . .