Gotcha !

Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise, the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art ! His countenance reeks of admiration, which speech can't disguise— but much of this—his antics—I'd known quite well from the very start. The cold air in the room is too tempting to chase away love, yet I choose to be oblivious to what my heart is saying. No soothsayer need tell me our feelings fit like hand in glove— yet still I must conceal the tale my restless heart keeps portraying. He thinks I’m playing hard to get—or fears he’s not quite good enough, though approval glows on my face—the same he's on both knees for. Perhaps he believes my "yes" won’t come so easy, or off the cuff— but truth be told, I might… though not before he pleads a bit more. My heart is too fragile for love to easily find its way in, so the longer he talks, the more it begs him for a breakthrough. My lips tremble when he kisses me, to seal what he calls a win— When cupid's arrow aims for you, there isn't much that you can do !