You see, I have this thing,
Where I'm looking for the one.
Maybe a streetdancer,
Or a preacher's son.

I know not what to expect,
So I dismiss them all.
Thinking he'd be right around the corner,
But instead I walk into a wall.

It is quite tiresome,  not knowing
Who he might be.
I don't enjoy this window shopping,
Although it is free.

I want to commit, and only
To the one.
Knowing you might be a
Prisoners son.

I promise you
I care not for this.
As long as our future is filled
With great happiness.

To be honest, my soul misses
Her mate.
And she's tired depending
On fate.

Waiting, I know,
Is all I can do.
But can't you perhaps trade your
Espadrilles for a running shoe?

-ZvZ-