Impulse
On the move I must watch my strides,
Careless hands hold me in rides,
Keep the ears aground to the danger;
And she chooses to be a stranger.
Yearning eyes restful seem to inquire,
The heart melts in his coveted desire,
Will these emotions ever transpire?
For she struggles and learns to conspire.
Time and again situations diffuse;
Surly he knows she will not refuse.
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