I wonder what it might be like
to be, wined and dined by you.
Would there be candles?
Would there be a soft smell
of you in the air?
Could I look at you
and feel safe inside,
without a care or worry
about what's out there.
My thoughts wander
while wondering,
about you
my dear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great stuff, and there should always be candles....Jeff.