When I looked in your eyes for the first time,
a twinkle looked back at me...

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

Surrounded by familiarity,
things I have seen everyday...

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

Forget the candy,
even though it’s dandy...

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

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

Driving home,
Relaxed, enjoying the ride...

The mountain lies
crumbled and worn...

A small rectangular box,
about twice the size of a shoe box...

Barely Eighteen,
crouching in the scrub...

It’s that little feeling,
that I get when you’re around...