Barely Eighteen,
crouching in the scrub...

The mountain lies
crumbled and worn...

A small spark sets it off,
A small stick helps it grow...

Sitting in her home office,
a pristine, spotless, organized space...

The caged bird looks out
and sees the free bird wheeling in the sky...

Love is like a rose;
Beautiful, with a razor edge...

When I look into your eyes,
There's nothing I despise...

I wish I could be
like the fly on your wall...

Annoying. Dumb. Idiotic.
These all describe you...

The snow drifts down,
lazily floating to and fro...

The way you smile,
The way you walk...

There is a place where I lose myself...
Your hair: a cascading wave of shimmering black...