I fly into your eyes like a moth skirts another dance around the perimeter of torch flames like on subtitles at foreign matinees, my eyes on yours are spellbound like the pleading of crying violins your voice finds the path to my deepest soul like crème brûlée lingering on my tongue, I want to taste more of your kisses ...and your love, like soft on silk, red on roses and sweet on youth leaves its permanence upon my heart