Baby love

Joris Olivier

Baby love

Love is in the air,
you can smell it everywhere,
the smell of pink roses and purple thyme,
you can even smell it in this rhyme.

Butterflies drink sweet nectar,
boys and girls hang around the bar,
they're flirting for love and wish for more,
but alas, they didn't buy preservatives before.

Nine months from now,
girls don’t remember from whom or how,
but nevertheless there is a baby,
the start of a series maybe.