I'm not quite sure how love began,
When eyes were seen at the heat of the sun;
The stares been given so hot, yet lame.
Its boiling point had stroke my name.
Pure fiery eyes of love he has,
It's flame gave warmth, no cold there was;
Yet I can't speak to him a word,
Of sweet nothings for him to be heard.
Though this I feel for him I know,
Is nothing but a wishful dream or so.
Still there would be a lonely friction,
So long been dreamt by this heart in dungeon.
Oh, when this love I never prayed,
Will do come true, in snap be made?
The face nor love I long to hold each day,
I guess would fail the heart astray.
03-02-14
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