Spoonful of Sugar

He likes joy girls,

The ones that spring upward in the wee hours
And smile because the sun is coming soon -
The ones that rise with the sun
And keep right on rising,
Even 'til the sun is setting -
Then they rise on
Into the night,

He likes girls with fluttering fingers
That tingle when they touch you -
Ones with round-eyed spirits
That peek out from the pockets of their irises.

He likes joy girls,

Those "sun-in-my-pocket" girls,
The skipping instead of walking, 
The "I'm too tired of talking,
(I'd rather be off singing)"
Girls,

Girls with giggles so infectious
That his frown can't help but slip-up

He holds these girls the tightest to him,

'cause his days look much too much like
The endings of

Late October dusks.