The rumble of talk fills the room. A man walks up with a slow gait, full of energy and light, his step ever so slight. He looks around, his hair slicked back, his eyes filled with to the brim with simple sound. He sports the wear of a man who knows who is, confident and the gait of a lion within its lair. The rumble of talk fills the room, for the lights goes dim, and lighters flicker in the darkness, only a slight glow does loom. His yearning eyes gaze once more searching for that one gal. His stalking eyes look about, and for he knew the end of the wait was near, he could feel the one he sought. He steps down from the wooden stage, his eyes filled with a tiger’s rage. He sees her in all her beauty, the light unaware of her form so right. His gait-the leopard’s stalk, eying his prey, her form so right, set straight under jet black hair the color of charcoal’s chalk. The rumble of talk simmers down, as he approaches his beautiful lady set apart in her gown, like a lamb in lamb in a wild cat’s groun’. He sets his hand upon her own, bringing her closer to the stage, freeing her from a dreary cage. His gait, a cheetah’s speed, for he is of the sun’s own seed. He speaks, his eyes so bright, his hair slicked back, hanging from his ear a silver ring, his voice speaks like the scorpion’s sting.

“To you my love, “

With a click of his hands, the lights do die, and a spotlight so right comes upon his being. The glimmer doesn’t die from eyes even in the blinding sea of light.

To you my love
I show you my song.
To you my love
my passion’s throng.

To you my love.
I strip away my cool
To you my love
I give my heart’s rule.

To you my love
I light my body’s flame
To you my love
Burn me with your name

To you my love
I show my song
To you my love
Right my every wrong.

Then he stood awaiting his heart’s desire, not knowing what should be for he was not given the gift to look at future’s sea.
~~