January 4th

Winter '12


The sound I hear,
Could it be her?
Footsteps soft,
she's coming near


The things I drop
I see them clear
Here she comes,
She's coming here


Her warm embrace,
The perfect length
around her waist
Her pale eyes, gray


The hours, the day
They blend and fade
But when she's there
I forget to care


Time means nothing,
Heart beats still
The thrill, her smile
The air, worthwhile


I stare, I blink
I breathe, I speak
The truth, it flows
Her grin, it glows


Usual thoughts have faded to gone
For hours I'm paralyzed,
I'm strung along
By the scent of her self
And the look in her eyes
I believe that she has me
This feeling cannot be wrong.


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