As I am walking, I feel his eyes
Spying and admiring.
He speaks to me about my beauty,
Admiring and Complimenting.
But mostly he watches me.
Does he want me to be his,
To hold and to love.
Or is he like others before that only want
To use and to abuse
But as usual he watches me.
When I look into his eyes, I see
His desire for me.
Those big pools of dark brown tell me
That he has love for me
And as always he watches me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem