Through metaphors I think of her yet I never speak of her which makes me second guess my chance of romance after our fated first glance. Her honey brown eyes kept me in the deepest trance as she illuminated my mid-summer’s night dance. She and only she stood alone like Pisa’s leaning stone, singular and breathtaking I couldn’t help forsaking the second meeting number two. Her hips, lips, and thighs steadily burned up my eyes as she ignored my cries to penetrate her sun kissed thighs. Why torment me with such bliss I prayed to awake for just one kiss. No, no, what had I done rising with the morning sun abandoning my dream woman of perfection now, never to feel my affection or my touch. It left me all but sublime realizing there may never be another time unless she comes back to me subconsciously in my dream.