My precious one is insightful and sweet;

her dimples all my misgivings defeat.

There may be many others I suppose,

more than capable my fears to transpose

to resolve, but I can't see any of those;

my corneas only register her.

Whether emaciated or obese

proximity evokes pure joy's release.

She's treated queenly, for if I mocked her,

behind the barn we'd never play doctor.