My girl....

Oh My lovely, You are not stuck in the middle.

Nor am I leaving you to just sit there and whittle.
Please, know that I hate seeing you left to piddle.
You are much too sweet to quibble.
Your heart is not little.
 My girl, I am not speaking a riddle.
Your chords are too precious and dainty,
 to sound like a fiddle.

Hold up your chin.  Count to ten.
You are not the essence of sin.
Do not listen to him.  I always win.
Come out of that dark den.
You must learn to love yourself,
from deep within.
You have beautiful skin.
You inspire your kin.
You are still scared of men,
and it makes you act like a protective hen.
I gave you your voice in a pen.
Now, play it over and over again.
I want them to hear you all the way in Big Ben.
Yes, you sound so pretty,
 like the clearest violin.

I love to trace, your exquisite face.
Nothing in you could ever be a waste.
I do nothing in haste.
 It's time you move, beyond a taste.
Do you know I always have paste, just in case?
There is no shame in being fragile,
like a delicate vase.
But it is time you give chase.
We have won this race.
You are much too soft to be a bass.

He was your's from hello. 
I know he can be too mellow,
and sometimes it is hard to get his head off of the pillow.
your fellow needs help, not feeling yellow.
Especially when his limbs turn to jello.
It will not help to bellow.
Remember to sing and play like the sweet cello.