Dedicated to true lovers..

                                    Writing something doesn't mean its from heart or with purpose.
                                              
                                                           
                                                                      

There is so much I miss,
Such as the perfect bliss

The feel of her lips,
Her hands on my hips

Many times I was told,
That she was too old.

But we didn't care,
And she was always there.

When her eyes met mine,
I knew everything was fine.

Now its her I miss,
And the magic of her kiss.

As she pressed her body against mine,
She told me all would be fine.

As we sat in a quiet corner
I never thought she would be a mourner.

As we stood under the clouds,
Covered in the moons shroud

And in my arms she would hide,
Watching the clouds slide

Over the night,
And we would take flight,

To the forests protective dome,
When then we would reluctantly go home.....
 
                                              --> Becka