Her fingers slowly strumming my heart's string.
Resonating harmonics echoing near her soul.
The sun appears as the spring breeze brings
our warm hands woven together for past blazing cold.

A single smile, I am taken into the next realm,
an inescapablly field of serenity.
In her single moment of clarity, the helm
she takes, while I am aimlessly lost in semi-calamity.

Compromisingly mending my freedom,
her curves circles the impeccable heart.
Not just a flower at random,
she's as unadultrated as timeless art.

Luck of the draw, we say,
who's to judge, and who is judging?
A baby step, but we play,
whom to answer, but who is asking?

Written on flight LAX to MSP, 4/26/98 7:30pm CST
and discovered it stashed away 6/24/2000
Picture taken 4/2000 in Avignon, France