Confession of an Operative.
By Trakal

Her pretty face,
Her mischievous smile,
Her sparkling laughter 
And her style.

She, like an angel 
In the air
With tresses, spiked, of 
Cyan hair

Goddess' daughter 
>From above
Now bound by sweet chains
Of true love.

She is, doubtless, 
Beyond compare
With the sun in her eyes
And sky in her hair.

My love for her
Shall ne'er fall flat,
(just don't tell *HER*
that I said that!)