Her eyes keep me imprisoned within a glass case of her heart, which the slightest mistake can shatter into unbindable fragments, seeking her attention and smile is simple.
But grasping for her heart is the menial task in which I strive to accomplish.
Oh but how, how can this woman bend me so.
Her elegant grace engulfs my mind, stemming my creativity and times the rhythm in which my cold heart beats. 
Her spirit is warm, and it slowly allows mine to match her temperature.
Her simplicity draws me into her heart even deeper, how could I fall so deep in a matter of weeks.
My cerebellum strives for an answer but cannot locate it, for the words come not from the mind, but the heart and soul.
How could I allow her to drown me in this abyss of bliss.
This pool of joy.
This, river of enlightenment.
Her words flow from her mouth and into my ears.
I stand my ground, my feet implanted to the earth, pushing the feelings away.
Yet, my heart has gone from ice to a passionate blaze.
And I still doubt she feels the same.
This is the woman to turn boys to fathers.
This is the woman of water.
And I thank god for these waters, waters...
Thank god for these waters...