I know her passion lies
amidst the tangled thoughts that whirl,
in the land behind her eyes.
With tender touch, with subtle grace,
through doubts and fears I weed.
In her fragile mind I place
a thought of me; a seed.
A seed of thought, root taken,
soon wood to fuel a fire.
Alarms ring loud to waken
hidden, uncontrolled desire.
With heat, as yet undreamed,
the lust scorches her soul.
From deep within is screamed,
“Only you can make me whole!”
And though she shan’t dare ask
I can see it on her face
so I remove my heart’s thick mask,
and it, into her hands, I place.
With both hands she takes my heart
and plants a seed all her own.
Such fertile soil, once given start
in an instant, t’is fully grown.
Then the fire, begun in her
grows and flares, consuming me.
With gentle touch, our passions stir,
burning for all to see.
At last, this fire started,
aloud my soul begins to cry.
Never wanting to be parted
from this flame that shall not die.
