Jan 2016
And of what of love, he asked
As he slid his fingers through my hair..
There was a special strength in his grip
And a certain passion in his stare..
But my body trembled and my heart raced
At the thought of loving him..
For if I allow myself to crumble to pieces here and now,
I may never recover again.
As he slid his fingers through my hair..
There was a special strength in his grip
And a certain passion in his stare..
But my body trembled and my heart raced
At the thought of loving him..
For if I allow myself to crumble to pieces here and now,
I may never recover again.
I imagine a couple, laying on a blanket in a peaceful scenery, dated back to the Renaissance era.
