Here I go again spinning in that world-wind of sensation every thought of her exploding, fracturing into exquisite bliss.

Who would have thought one would be trapped so swiftly crippled in her gaze as a moth to wicker.

A familiar rush returns as a warm embrace yearning for her arms.

I have dared to stray for so long from this want of feeling a foolish charade played against the player.

And I cannot say I’m not scared to death of where these feelings may take me but it is so often that I dared to gaze into her eyes in search of trust and understanding.

And I know I shall not fall before her without thought or sign alluding to my dreams other than fantasy.

For if she reaches toward my hand I shall shed a tear of joy knowing she has taken time to know me.