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Description
Your love pulses through my veins – Soft, always gentle
Extremes in revitalising from your touch
Sensitivity rumbles through the air
A slight breeze, reaching your heart filled with sadness, remorse and longing
Longing for a better place, a better time, a better world, someone better
But all I want is you, to be able to feel your heart beating in perfect harmony with mine, enabling us to escape from our lives, maybe if we just closed our eyes, we could enter each other, the utmost in love, an aura of content and satisfaction.
Keep this, just for one moment, before it is gone, as afterwards, the only joy will be the memories, and what good are memories, if they have no basis, and are non-existent?
Your love pulses through my veins. I can feel it, growing inside me, reaching my soul and clasping on tight, to never let go
The touch of your cold hands on a warm day, shivers of appreciation ring through my spine, as the shock of impulse enters my brain and buries itself deeply.
A twisting sequential maze of the finest golden hairs rippling gently through my fingers, smoother than silk, fine as the sun setting softly over a pool of darkness and shadow, preserving forever a calm evening in late spring in its utmost tranquillity, flowing on, over your shoulders, cut evenly far below, farther than the eye can see, more precise than a surgeon’s insection.

Oct. ‘02

Description
Your love pulses through my veins – Soft, always gentle
Extremes in revitalising from your touch
Sensitivity rumbles through the air
A slight breeze, reaching your heart filled with sadness, remorse and longing
Longing for a better place, a better time, a better world, someone better
But all I want is you, to be able to feel your heart beating in perfect harmony with mine, enabling us to escape from our lives, maybe if we just closed our eyes, we could enter each other, the utmost in love, an aura of content and satisfaction.
Keep this, just for one moment, before it is gone, as afterwards, the only joy will be the memories, and what good are memories, if they have no basis, and are non-existent?
Your love pulses through my veins. I can feel it, growing inside me, reaching my soul and clasping on tight, to never let go
The touch of your cold hands on a warm day, shivers of appreciation ring through my spine, as the shock of impulse enters my brain and buries itself deeply.
A twisting sequential maze of the finest golden hairs rippling gently through my fingers, smoother than silk, fine as the sun setting softly over a pool of darkness and shadow, preserving forever a calm evening in late spring in its utmost tranquillity, flowing on, over your shoulders, cut evenly far below, farther than the eye can see, more precise than a surgeon’s insection.

Oct. ‘02