GRACEFUL HEART!
What dream, what hope, what despair drives one to chase after love, a cruel tyrant as she is? The ageless rhetoric cast in sands of time. Love has it's own logic, just as it has it's own foolishness. 'tis ironical that as tides of time ebb, the mystery of love is what we all become; and I became. My beating heart, snatched in both her hands, ' took off quicker than a wild mare, ' sprang after her, spell bound, breathless and burning brightly with determination; anchoring the wild chase on hope, Chasing after the heart held hostage in her hands. O! Alas! My spirited pursuit drowned me in the warm streams of her essence, All of me dissolved into the flowing stream of her grace, beauty and the magic of her loveliness, The chase to rescue a striken heart became a treasure hunt for a mythical pot of gold at the edge of the western rainbow. She grew upon me, she did, Her intuitive perception, the winning fascination in her manners and something imperial