You in blue

I don’t actually like to rhyme my writing, Or write about someone I haven’t met yet, I don’t know you. But this is about you. Not me, u.

You were a flower picking maniac A record collecting brainiac, You never cared much for your shoes, Always barefoot was your muse, So the sun had soaked your hair That left a rose scent in the air, A bit exotic to the taste,

But left Beaty on your face.