Inspired by the gleam in her eyes
This love starts to grow,
But this will sure be my demise.
For the love has grown
From a cub to a lion
It has matured,
But has not grown old
Nor reached the golden years.
This love is young
This love is innocent
Not yet convicted,
For crimes it hasn't committed.
This loves is not,
A fugacious attempt for happiness
It is a lion waiting to roar
As cautious as a serpent,
And innocent as a dove
This love is mines,
And I am yours