Orange and yellow hues,
filled with golden rays.
Holes in knitted blankets,
colours in an array.

No matter the problems that her and I face,
she smiles and brightens,
her eyes made of lace.
The fabric of them, so thin I can see through,
with more holes to fill,
with love and kindness too.

I love her.
I know this.
And she loves me too.

Though I'm not as sure,
if her feelings are still returned,
I never wonder once,
if Clementine is worth.

Body language, words are not enough.
Clementine is with me,
and she is all above.
No importance bigger than her,
she is what I am.

I would not be the same as I am,
if Clementine weren't mine.