The face I see before me approximates that of an angel,
Bearing a heavenly smile, radiant as the sun.
But this face is of no angel but of an earthly maiden,
A cherubic visage, with a youthful charm,
Your face it is, my Cupcake.
The words I read bear a message from afar,
Like a divine letter, they fuel my resolve.
But these words be not of astral birth but from a secular hand,
A virtuous note, bound with cheer,
Your words they are, my Cupcake.
The voice I hear has the wondrous tone of birdsong,
Benevolent chimes, calming and soothing.
But this voice comes not from above but from human lips,
A sweet clamour, innocent yet adept,
Your voice it is, my Cupcake.
Hear me, my Cupcake!
You are the star I gaze upon,
You are the light that exposes my path,
You are the wind that pushes me onward,
You are the treasure for which I desire,
I crave thy convivial aura,
My Cupcake, I adore thee.
The horn that is my voice bellowed for you,
Its song of passion, devotion and aspiration.
But the audien