6-3-13

Her tractor beam eyes draw me near, Eyes with the ability, allowing men to leer; A lowered bridge, allowing people to cross, Across the wood and the moss; Seeing her again, to me what matters most, Where ever she may be, inland or by the coast; Feelings for her, within me I own, Sipping wine, along the river Rhone; Drawing on my experience to further understand the likes of you, Leaves me not knowing about the complexities you do; Which clearly explains you're far too deep to understand, Even when our time is very well planned; When the time has come and I can no longer solicit, Not even one morsel, not even one bit; When things begin to go awry, The only thing left for me to do is die. 6-3-13