I could be, you know,
her Cyrano,
(albeit, I suppose,
without the pronounced nose.)

I mean, I do have one,
(most breathing men do),
but the nom de plume’s for fun,
not some large thing I often blew.

For a true poet, instead,
may pose as Cyrano to discuss
the improv poetry in his head;
NOT his proboscis!

I hope she’ll consider if she’d soon deign to meet,
where I will woo her with words witty and sweet.