To she who was made with my ribs

How long shall it take to meet thee
O thou who was made with my rib
I have paid too many a fee
But i still wonder when we’ll share a crib

I read from the books
How others have found theirs
Should i go in for the looks
I’m afraid to be deceived with heirs

My search for you seems lorn
But I’m told the beautiful ones
Are not yet born
I still need to take a stance

I’m told of how special I am
And how great I could be
So I should wait for a perfect ma’am
Who won’t cause me in future to plea

So I surrender unto my Maker
He knows who got my rib
And whose children I could father
All of us together sharing that crib