Once I wrote about being in your arms.
Then I wrote about you only being a dream.
What kind of start is that?
You are a man of dreams.
A man who doesn't exist.
That is at least, what I've written.
Hark, have the stars fallen?
Are you real or are you false?
Now, again I shall write.
To be in your arms is paradise.
The smell of your skin-
A temptation I'll gladly give in to.
Your smile, a caress upon my skin.
With laughter and joy our secret.
We could be great.
But only if you're more than dreams.
No comments:
Post a Comment