Brunette - has she played your tune-yet? Playing a harp, heart strings pulled and strung together as art.
Can a start begin at the top, middle and end? You look her up and down and wonder where to begin…
Lips shimmer like lake’s-light, you can tell by the look in her eyes - it’s going to be a late-night
Stage fright - you get up on stage trying to sing a staged night - she’s not hungry, but her lip, she still bites. You nervous on stage, she’s thinking breakfast - are his crepes right?