A glance of sun
A glace so exhilerating
Seems to ignite the
Dying fire
Inside of me
You eyes-
The match
And mine-
The friction
Might possibly force
My heart to
Combust
In front of you
The clouds move in
Fog patches dwelling
In my solemn mind
I cannot handle
the slightest mist
The faintest precipitation
May drown my soul |