"A Bona Fide Mystery"
It's been said that love is a battlefield;
It can also be a bona fide mystery.
I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but I spend much of my time
Trying to deduce the workings of sister-y.
I'm checking the facts, gathering clues,
Trying to see what it all means.
Scouring the scene, leaving no stone unturned,
But so far, I've not come up with beans.
She hides her true feelings like the color of her hair;
Each new month is a different tint or shade.
And now she's thinking or making it blue,
Or green, pink, purple, or jade.
It's hard for me to know if I'm coming or going;
If the door to her heart is open or closed.
But I'll try to be patient as I am kept waiting -
However long it may take, I suppose.
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