It's him that I cannot hold


  with these two hands that are cold


  feels like I'm Elsa in a tale once told


  but heart is warm and precious as gold


  I see thousands of sun in his smile and eyes


  giving my face a warm feeling started to rise


  When he gets closer to me I've just realized


  that I shouldn't overcome all these butterflies


  And all the signs that I'm so familiar with


  which I thought it was only a myth


  written by Shakespeare on September fifth


  that I have read many times, when I was on the top of


   the monolith

   -Kmo