What makes me love him?
it's not his singing,
i've heard his singing,
it sours the milk
and yet, it's gotten to the point
where i prefer that kind of milk.
What makes me love him?
it's not his learning.
he's learned so slowly,
his whole life long
and though he really knows
a multitude of things
they're mostly wrong.

he's not romantic,
and yet i love him.
no one occasion
he's used me ill
and though he's handsome
i know inside me
were he a plain man
i'd love him still.

what makes me love him?
it's quite beyond me,
it must be something
i can't define.
unless it's merely
that he's masculine
and that he's mine.