The essence of his sweet kiss lingers on my lips as would a cold winters  breeze softly blowing through the sunlit autumn leaves. the memory of his arms so tight around my body, so familiar, so right. my soul searches for him at night, lost in my dreams, I see my elusive black fox. he plays a game of cat and mouse. little does he know he plays with the Shehawk, she who is wise, and watches him from the safety of her skyhouse. she knows he's dangerous but she is still curious, intrigued, drawn in. Who will win? What game are we playing? Black fox, why are we waiting?