Eyes Like Frying Pans

I love thee Wilma, with hair like silk,
Lips like cherries, skin like milk,
Your shell-like ears, your dainty hands,
And eyes so black, like frying pans

And when you in my arms are in,
My love how can you doubt?
I quiver just like geletin,
And sometimes even break out.

You're a perfect peach, my love,
Together we're a pear (pair),
You're sweet, you're nice, you're paradise,
And all kinna stuff like that there.

Cam told me about this poem, written by Fred Flintstone for his wife Wilma. It makes me think of Karin, her eyes are so dark grey they are almost black...like frying pans.