This is a personal verse worked up from the description above, ---from the bold font clues----,
I am inspired by this young woman, by her photograph, too, accompanying her self-introduction
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-A Sweet One-
The only girl that I can see now
is no rana, nothing coarse.
This sweet crumble of girl cookie
scouts around for the right boy.
"Junior Mint", I call her flavor.
I would buy her box, I would!
But I can't. Am tender-footed.
Just a Cub Scout without dimes.
Yet she would gift me sugar wafers...
Am sure she would! ... if I were worth her.
Truth again defaults/descends me
low and leaves me in the dirt.
There I languish with the toadstools,
without graces, with no song.
Re Rhianna was this poor poem.
Re Reid/me: again, alone.