For Leiroy, The Love Of My Life

Time stands still, as we lay here in this bed,

Not a single word is uttered, yet so much has been said .

We stare into each others' eyes, our lips curl into a smile,

The world outside seems to fade away,

There's no soul for another mile.

I feel your heart beat faster, as you hold onto my waist,

There's a fire burning in your eyes,

Your smile gives me but a taste.

Your sweet breath sings a beautiful tune, as you draw me closer in,

My skin tingles beneath your touch,

Now I feel the fire within.

Hopelessly we give in, our lips begin to meet,

Lost in passion's embrace with kisses oh so sweet.

Your fingers gently trace every outline on my skin,

Your hungry eyes beckon, I surrender and let you win. 

Desire runs deep, your want grows with every kiss,

Each gasp for air is followed by sounds of unadulterated bliss.

My body aches with a passion that's unlike ever before, 

Consumed by our carnal needs that keep us coming back for more.

Words can't nearly describe the feeling that we share,

When we're lost in love's embrace, there's nothing that can compare.

Call it chemistry, sparks or what you wish, all I see is me and you,

A love like this knows no bounds, for what I say is true. 

Ramblings Of A Crazy Person

I don't write for myself anymore. Whether it's about my hopes and dreams, silly ideas or my musings on life as I've come to know it in my 28 years on this planet, I just don't write anymore.

I've often felt that I best express myself when I write; words flow with ease; I articulate better—I somehow manage to make a whole lot of sense when I just let the words flow. So what's stopped me these past two years? 

My job involves writing on a daily basis—I give readers tidbits of facts, packaged in a rather vibrant wrapping paper, complete with bow and all—but somehow, I find that there's something still amiss. 

Maybe I'm in my head a little too much; maybe I've invested so much of my emotions in my soulmate that I don't need to vent on paper anymore; or maybe, there's something improsoned within me, and I just need to find the key. Whatever seems to be the problem, I need to break out of this rut. 

The fact remains, I miss the simple pleasure of writing just for me—of having that secret space, just for myself, where my words aren't censored by some snooty copy editor who can't really tell her arse from her elbow; where I have the freedom to express myself, without being subjected to "writing school" knowledge, but instead, really have something to say. 

No, the irony hasn't escaped me—I do realise this is a blog and that the "my space" aspect of writing is defeated by the fact that this isn't exactly private, but who am I kidding, I barely have any followers so there's really no chance that someone is going to read this. 

And so I rant—rant that I may never really live up to my full potential; rant that I've let a crazy, erratic boss take charge of the direction my creativity is supposed to flow in; rant that I'm too naive to accept that this is a dog eat dog world and that its every man for himself.

I began this post in the hopes that it would turn into a poem. Instead, I'm left with a monologue that took about 30 minutes to jot down, and will accomplish absolutely nothing. Goodie!

But, I will admit that it does feel good to write, just for me, again. And who knows, someday, these ramblings of a crazy person, might just be worth something. 

Me and my wishful thinking, I know. Maybe next time, I'll decide to rant, and hopefully, end up with a poem instead. 

Semen: This Beauty Fix Is Sure To ‘Blow’ Your Mind

Do you find yourself slyly checking out the girl a few cubicles away, you know, the one with the pink hue in her cheeks, and no visible signs of pimples? You’re probably admiring her make-up skills and perhaps contemplating asking her just how she manages that minimalistic look so effortlessly. Well, there’s a possibility that she’s gone make-up free, and the cause of that radiance is well, sex!

Now, they say that an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but according to Dr Gloria G Bramer, a Georgia-based clinical sexologist, it’s an orgasm a day that actually works better. Now, we don’t mean to upset the apple cart, but somehow, the latter kind of forbidden fruit is more our style. Besides, we’re all about holistic and natural remedies, so what better than sex to get that healthy glow, right?

Well, now, it seems that sex has another juicy secret to spill when it comes to beauty quick-fixes. And women, you’re probably going to have to be down on your knees (or on all fours, whichever you prefer) for this one.  Now boys, don’t get too excited, you might jizz be in for quite the surprise yourselves.

So, you know that sex helps improve blood circulation, making your skin glow, giving you fuller lips and shinier hair. What you don’t know is that, oral sex might just prove to be a little better for your skin. Perhaps, here’s one way those fuller lips might be put to good use. But, dear men, before you begin to squeal in excitement, know that there’s a catch. It’s not the action that will help, but the outcome (read: your semen).

Yep. You read that right! According to a number of studies, semen contains vitamins B, C, and E along with vital nutrients like potassium, a crystalline polyamine compound called Spermine that is said to diminish wrinkles, smooth skin but more importantly, prevent acne and breakouts! But, investing in Spermine-based products will definitely burn a hole in your pockets, what with their $250 (approximate) price tag.

So why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, right? Besides, if you let him finish on your face, you’re not only benefitting from a scientifically-proven anti-aging remedy, you’re probably going to add a whole new level of kink to your sex life. And trust us, ain’t nothing wrong with that!

Dreaming in Black and White

The pictures on the wall
Memories frozen in time
Slowly fades away
Like a missed note, or unsung line

A symphony of souls
Ripped apart with that one call
Nine words to this day
Resound within my all

Those promises you made
The pictures your words would paint
Filled my dreams with colour
Hope didn't seem so faint

But suddenly, without warning
You pulled the carpet from where I stood
So I dream in black and white
For colour is no good

By Charlene Flanagan

So I write...

There are lots of ways in which things unfold – unexpected run-ins, whirlwind romances, unresolved feelings, or even marriage proposals. Life is beautiful and unpredictable like that. Nobody really knows what to expect from one minute to the next, especially when a perfectly happy relationship comes to an unprecedented halt. So what do you do? Do you cry? Do you curse everything around you? Do you wish for death? Or, do you just simply let the cards fall where they may?

The fact remains, you don’t really know what to do. You’re rendered immobile for what seems like hours. Your mind shuts down and refuses to regain control of your body. You’re mechanical and probably just going through the motions, so that, when you’re finally alone, you can let it all out – cry, scream, and maybe even punch a wall.

Nothing is set in stone. And that’s an ugly truth I’ve had the displeasure of learning a few too many times. Alfred Lord Tennyson once wrote, “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” Those words are not only powerful, but they hold a certain beauty and truth to it. The feeling of being in love, making someone happy, and watching them love you back is what makes life worth living. It’s exhilarating and a complete rush. It makes you do things you never thought possible. It gives you a renewed sense of hope and belief. So, when it’s pulled out from under your feet, and you can watch yourself fall to the ground in slow motion, the only thing that does, in fact, cross your mind is this: it was worth it, if only for a few moments in the sun.

So when Tennyson penned "In Memoriam: 27" is 1850, he knew what he was talking about. If it was true then, why wouldn't it be true now? But, I have to stop and ask – how many times must I watch myself fall, till I know I will be caught and held upright, for good? How many inventive ways will I get my heart broken, before I meet someone who just takes away all the hurt, deception, grief and disappointment?

Everybody gets into a relationship in the hope that it’ll work out. More often than not, your first love is never your last. For those lucky few who have met the ones they’re supposed to be with for the rest of their lives, in the first try, don’t let it go. Then there are those unfortunate ones, like myself, for whom hope burns only as bright as a candle flame, dwindling and flicker with any external force. What do people like myself do? Do we keep that flame burning, or just let it go out on its own?

The truth is, I’m losing hope. I can feel myself slowly sinking into an abyss, which for what it's worth, may just as well be a better option, as compared to waiting to find love, and doing the same jig all over again. I feel myself giving up, now, after so many failed relationships, for the simple reason that I cannot trust myself anymore. I cannot trust my ability to judge someone’s character or the choices I make. I cannot trust anything. The only thing that life has taught me so far is, when you let yourself fall for someone, and truly let them see you, you’re going to be left hurt. When you open yourself up to love, you run the risk of getting hurt. I have been an eternal romantic, optimistic and ever ready to give someone a chance, in the hopes that this time, the relationship would last. I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve. I’ve always said what’s in my heart and given more than I should. Somehow, I’ve always fallen short or I've ended up with the raw end of the deal.

Recently, I met an amazing man – funny, charming, kind, honest, someone with a bright future, but, more importantly, someone who chose me, and not the other way around when I've always made the first move and said what I felt. He sought me out. He chased after me and it was he who showed me that life could be beautiful, that I was beautiful. He made me feel like I was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. He gave me hope and made me feel safe. Then, without any warning,  he just took it all back. Nine words took what I thought was the best relationship I’ve ever had, and turned it into something I will never understand. “I don’t think I can be in a relationship,” was what he said. He might as well have added the “with you” bit as well. And to add insult to injury, he said, “It’s not you, it’s me.” That he "still had feelings for his ex and was only caught up with me." So, what happened? Can anybody explain why someone would say he was going to marry me one day, have four kids with me, and build a home if he was merely "caught up" in the moment? 

My mind is running empty. I don’t know anything anymore. What does one do when someone who’s perfect on paper and person, does something like this, despite your repeated requests to not hurt you, because he seems like he’s too good to be true? What does one do when the very last remnants of hope you've scrounged and stitched together, only so that you can give another relationship an honest shot, are ripped apart at the vulnerable seams? How then, does one pick themselves up, brush off the dirt, and move forward? With what heart does one embrace a new day?

This quest to find someone who won’t look right through me or fool me, is hopeless. So I write. I write out the good. I write out the bad. I let the words flow. Right now, my thoughts may not be coherent. I may not be making any sense. Perhaps it’s because confusing the world seems like the only thing that’s just about right, since nothing else around me makes sense. So I’ll go through the motions. I’ll do my duties as a daughter, sister and employee. But, the duty to myself will be left incomplete because, if life has taught me anything, it’s that there’s just no point to doing things right.

There’s just no point.

Around the Bend (Review: Tilt All Day)

It’s not easy staying straight and Tilt All Day, Mumbai’s latest café-bar hybrid will definitely get you bent out of shape…

If you’re anything like me, chances are, you get yourself into a world of food-related trouble. But if you’re not, here’s why you should! This is one guilt trip you won’t regret.

In the zone

So what sets Tilt apart? I’m inclined to say that the concept of an ‘All Day’ format with the ability to transform a 4,000 sq feet not-so-quaint café by day, to an all out disco – strobe lights and the whole shebang – by night, might have something to do with it. And if club hopping is not your thing, Tilt seems like the perfect spot for great dinner conversations that have a tendency to turn into a long night of dancing.

This semi-industrial Kamala Mills space, designed by Busride Design Studio, has an interesting décor. You will find blue sofa booths that at the click of a button, turns into a dance floor; a sunshine yellow community table with high stools for the vertically challenged; a velvet VIP booth, a bar and a stage. Guests get to witness their meals being prepared and the open kitchen even boasts of a shawarma spit and wood-fire oven. Add to that a light controller with about 700 settings used to change the mood as the day progresses. And even though it sounds like something out of a Spielberg movie, it manages to come together.

It’s five o’clock somewhere!

It was 7 p.m. And after an exhausting day at work, mid-week drinking was an exciting prospect. But since we were a tad bit early (the restaurant opens at 7.30 p.m), we waited outside. Once in, we were guided to our table by not one, but three eager-to-serve-you waiters that were bursting with energy. You can always tell how a night is going to turn out but the way you’re greeted at the door. And it’s safe to say, you feel like a VIP, reviewer or not. After we settled in, we were presented with an elaborate bar menu. A quick scan and a few recommendations later, we tried their immensely popular Berry Berry Margarita (R695) – a blend of tequila, cranberry liqueur, blueberry, raspberry, lime juice and sugar syrup, and a Fuzzy Martini (R750) – Absolut Vanilla Vodka, kaluha and peach puree. Now, I’m not too big on Raspberries so the Margarita was not my favourite, but I think I found my drink in that Fuzzy Martini. After round one of drinks, the intuitive staff was ready with a few more recommendations. This time, we decided on a Black Oasis (R750), a mixture of Finlandia Vodka, earl grey tea, lemon grass, tamarind puree, lime juice and sugar syrup. I wish I’d stuck to my Martini since the alcohol in the Black Oasis was a mere mirage. The Monk’s Martini (R550), a mixture of Old Monk, coffee, cinammon powder and sugar syrup, is the perfect treat for us big babies. And if that wasn’t enough, I was reminded of those walks home from school with treats of guava and chilli powder, in Tilt’s unlisted Guava mocktail.

Glutton for punishment

As we sipped on our drinks and observed the pretty lights, our order of the Wild Mushroom Soup scented with Truffle Oil (R225) and Roasted Pumkin Soup with oven roasted garlic (R175), served as well-received accompaniments. I mean, alcohol on an empty stomach only spells doom. The earthy flavour of wild mushroom with the touch of truffle was spectacular while the simple, yet robust flavour of the pumpkin soup worked well. The minimalistic presentation and vibrant colours added just the right touch. Since this was going to be a long night, and the next course, like clockwork, made it to our table the moment we were done with one, we requested smaller portions. I mean, it’s only logical that we tasted everything if we were going to do justice to the place. Next, we moved on to salads. We opted for the Watermelon and Feta with Rocket Leaves and Alfalfa (R325) and the Pulled Chicken with Orange Glase and Caramalised Walnuts (R355). Now, I know watermelon is delicious all on its own but what these culinary geniuses served up was nothing short of perfection. The smokey spice of the rocket leaves, the saltiness of the feta and the subtle sweetness of the watermelon was perfectly complemented by the balsamic reduction drizzled on top. It was an absolute delight to eat. The chicken salad was exquisite and the candied walnuts danced on my palate.

Bon appetite!

The next course of appetisers included their Chargrilled Mustard King Prawns with a Balsamic reduction (R475) and the Cajun-marinated Cottage Cheese with a Sweet Chilli Dip (R325). The prawns were succulent while the cottage cheese had a generous coating of the marinade. But what really took the dish to the next level was that sweet chilli dip. The hit of the Cajun spices, followed by the sweetness of, the chilli sauce, stayed with me for a long time.

By this time, we were pretty much done. However, despite requesting tiny portions, our main course of Green tea infused Scottish Salmon with Leeks and Asparagus Fondue and a side of Wasabi Mashed Potatoes (R995) and Eggplant Parmigiana (R425) were nowhere close to tiny. It was a tough job but somebody had to do it. Now, I don’t want to take away from the hard work and wonderful flavours but what I didn’t quite understand was why we were served a risotto in place of the fondue, and why anything infused with green tea needed to be paired with wasabi! I mean, wasabi has strong flavours and almost always dominates a dish. The eggplant left little to be desired. It seemingly lacked a punch – perhaps garlic or a little spice would have helped, but the greasy eggplant took away from what could have been a winner.

Now, as you can imagine, we were pretty much done for. One more morsel of food and we would explode. Enter the Chocolate Nougat cake with a dollop of caramel. Now I don’t know how, but there seemed to be a tiny pocket of space – enough room for dessert as they say – that managed to open up. But that was not all. The staff insisted we try their dessert cocktail, the Tiramisu (R550), and I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind another one of those. The potent concoction, was irresistible. I’m definitely going back for more.

A buzzing head and the psychedelic light display, made for a tilted effect I’ve never experienced before. This is definitely one meal I’m going to commit to memory!

By Charlene Flanagan

Some Light-hearted Banter: A Limerick

In a town full of legends and lore
Lives a creature like never before
A rare species to find
It’s one of a kind
Polished, and oh so much more

Its reputation precedes this odd soul
Whispers that make up a whole
But of all that is known
Nothing beats what’s home grown
Such virtues are but to extol

A young lady one day she did go
Exploring out by the shore
But returned quite aghast
For then, there at last
The creature did come to the fore

The creature ‘t was but a bloke
“Suave and gentle,” she said, “I don’t joke”
“He reached for my hand
To steady my stand
I'm certain I'm having a stroke!”

Now legend will soon set sail
For words are strung into a tale
The rare creature emerged
All stereotypes purged
Meet the chivalrous Indian male

By Charlene Flanagan

Here’s another stab at a limerick

It seems like we’re in for a ride
Great verses flow like the tide
Quick wit and skill
Are summoned at will
The poets all brimming with pride

There seem to be plenty a verse
Well-written, witty and terse
The jury is in
But who will quite win
Is it a blessing or is it a curse?

And now we’re in quite a pickle
Great jibes to taunt and tickle
Gritty and bold
Did those lyrics unfold
So it’s time to bring out that strickle

By Charlene Flanagan

Limerick for my father

There lives a fat man I call dad
Eccentric, if not really mad
At the computer all day
He keeps rhyming away
Funny verses that make people glad

At the table today he did sit
Realising he could just about fit
Tapping his waist
While making egg paste
To gobble up every last bit

Now laughing at this silly rhyme
While whiling away all our time
Making big plans for dinner
But not how to get thinner
To dad, that's a really big crime

By Charlene Flanagan

I taste forever...

I taste forever in your kiss
Forever and a day
I see your soul through your eyes
Don't look the other way
An understanding in your smile
So words don't need a say
I taste forever in your kiss
Forever and a day

An eternity doesn't seem enough
When love is used to measure
A lifetime better than none at all
Every moment yours to treasure
No hold has been as strong as this
When I taste forever in your kiss

By Charlene Flanagan

50 Shades of Ridiculous

On the advice of an overly excited friend (and extremely poor judgement on my part), I picked up a copy of 50 Shades of Grey. Yes, you could say that I succumbed to peer pressure, but it was the intrigue generated by all the talk in the media that really pushed me to pick up the copy. Now, reluctantly, I began reading the book, but if I’m really being honest, it’s the chemistry and the spark which the protagonists shared that made me read the first 150 pages with keen interest. That being said, I still haven’t finished the first book. My initial reaction to the sex was the obvious – getting absolutely flushed and red-faced. But, moving past the sex and the obvious chemistry (obvious only because author EL James was probably giving voice to one of her deepest, darkest fantasies), it got me thinking. This is, after all, modern-day America where what passes as regular entertainment are reality shows like ‘Teen Moms’ and ‘13 & Pregnant’, one has to really stop and take note of the glaring fact – James is delusional.

I may not read as often as I’d like to but when I do, I’d like to at least read something that makes a bit of sense (maybe that’s not necessarily how I would put it but let’s just say for argument sake, it needs to be a little rooted in reality), even if it’s mindless entertainment. For one, there are probably little to no virgins left in America. But let’s give the author the benefit of the doubt and say that there are a few (at the “tender” age of 19). Is she trying to sell the audience on the fact that Anastasia was such a prude that she didn’t know how things work or what she’s supposed to do? I, for one, find that incredibly hard to believe. But, let’s continue to give her the benefit of the doubt and still say that that’s a possibility as well. Does the author expect us to believe that the protagonist is the quintessential girl next door, damsel in distress and the humble beauty all rolled into one? Reality check, anyone?

Despite that, I'd still say all these aspects are forgivable. Because let’s face it, chick-lit thrives on lonely, unhappy women living vicariously through the characters they read about. But what I do not understand is why, if this is in fact erotica, did James forget what she was really writing (or trying to) and introduce the emotional angle? If it’s “mommy porn” at the end of the day, it would have probably gained a lot more readership if she’d stuck solely to the sex and BDSM (Bondage and Sadomasochism) and completely bypassed the whole emotional atyachaar of disappointment and heartache. Did she think that women were incapable of enjoying sex purely for the act? It is the 21^st century for crying out loud!

But if that’s not enough, she goes a step further to give this dysfunctional relationship a “happy ending” because, who doesn’t want a happily ever after, right? But, if any sane person were in her place (here: Anastasia), they’d probably run as fast as they could the other way! For one, Christian Grey was a sadist. And let’s be honest here, men are not prone to changing who they really are. Secondly, he has a ‘Red Room of Pain’ as Ana calls it; complete with very frightful looking “toys” (if you could call it that) that he uses to subdue his victim. The fact that that’s how she describes him should make any women look for an escape route even before anything really starts. I mean, you’ve got to be really sick, probably a masochist, if you’re okay with being treated like that. Yes, there are people who are into that level of kinky but I don’t think any man would disrespect his woman in that way if he really loved her. This brings me back to my point of the emotional angle being introduced. In such kind of writing, emotions don’t really have a part. And in order to truly enjoy the dirty sex part of the story, it needed to be devoid of emotions. James should have ignored the “Will my book really sell if I leave out the emotions?” thought and left out the commercial appeal to her book and maybe, then we could have forgiven the bad writing and appreciated the book for what it’s really meant to be – the satisfaction of one’s carnal desires.

After reading the column ‘Grey Science’ by Deblina Chakrabarty in the September issue of MW, my aversion to reading the rest of the book was only further realised. The column may not be the best opinion piece I’ve read on the 50 Shades phenomenon but she does touch upon some great points. As she rightly calls it, “A clichéd fairytale dressed up as a sex romp.” That is the reason I finally voice my opinion on the 50 Shades of Grey series (50 Shades of Grey, 50 Shades Darker and 50 Shades Freed – though I really wonder what Ana’s been freed from, the “bondage” or her insane need to be dominated.) I cannot seem to understand the fascination with BDSM. Is it that we’re all closet masochists appreciating the unspoken truth that lies beneath or are we all just emotionally damaged that we cannot distinguish between healthy sex and that which is bordering on the criminally insane (of sorts). But, to each his own I guess.

The Ramblings of a Disappointed Girl

Sometimes, it’s hard to put into words just what it is that you’re feeling. Disappointments are abundant – whether it’s criticism at work, the constant nastiness and condescending tones you deal with or the very fact that, because of human error, you’re reprimanded and made to look a fool. Nothing is ever going to be exactly the way you expect and maybe, that’s why disappointments arise. What is it about the human condition that keeps us hopeful, despite knowing the outcome before hand? Are we all closet masochists or is it that we expect too much from the people around us?

(I’d like to believe that) I’ve always been an optimist. And I’ve had to learn the hard way the world is filled with beautiful liars. And more often than not, it’s relationships that disappoint the most. Maybe it’s because women, when they love, they give their hearts and souls away, expecting the same in return. And then, when expectations aren’t met, disappointments arise. Big surprise! And being understanding and reasonable in the hopes of being given priority over the other is an inevitable disillusionment. So why then, do we still place our hopes where the foreseeable danger of dissatisfaction is lurking? And, what’s sad is that despite this expected outcome, women will be hopeful till the very last minute.

And today, I learned a valuable lesson. Whether I keep it in mind in the future is debatable but it was a predictable unpredictability. I’m not really sure that’s even a possibility but, if you stop to think, even the tiniest bit of hope will cause such an outcome.  And it’s made me realised the importance of self preservation. Maybe that’s not what I would call it. But let’s just say, for argument sake, that it’s important to do things that makes us happy first, before we decide to be all so selfless and end up, as time only proves, disappointed. It’s been the story of my life so far. When I’ve done wrong, things seem to have fallen into place for me. When I’ve been selfish, I’ve always been happier. Is this the way the world really works? Does selfishness really pay off? I’d like to believe that we’re all better than this. But the sad fact remains, selflessness goes hand in hand with disappointment, no matter how much you disagree.

You may be wondering what I’m on about. But that’s not what matters. Because at the end of the day, whatever the situation, a woman will always have expectations from her man, and she’ll always wait for the “good news” she wants to hear, despite what she knows she’ll hear. I may not be making much sense. But I’m not here to be coherent. I’m here in the hope that some man somewhere will realise just how much hope, faith and trust their partner have placed in them and they, try their best to not build her up, only to let her down again...

This is how my life is as I take stock today. It’s not what it used to be – carefree. All these feelings, hopes and dreams I’ve shared have left me vulnerable. These are my words, the words that rise from a heavy heart. The words I’ve always let slip, without a trace. And this is my smile, one that’s failing to hide the tears underneath. I’ve shown that too many times before. I guess I’m the masochist after all...

Edge of Insanity

She waited...but she didn't know,
If and when he would show,

A heavy heart and desperate sighs,
Repeatedly rubbing on her eyes,

She stared in the distance, a hopeful gaze,
Unfleeting moments mimic the longest days,

Yet patiently, she waits...unmoved,
Rendering her fears slowly proved,

Silly, masochistic, helpless dame,
Foolishly fell for the oldest game,

She thought she was worthy of his change in heart,
Eager to finally be that part,

The part that she was all about,
The part he couldn't live without,

So those tiny lies of words so sweet,
Quickened her racing gullible heartbeat,

Yet she waits, unfazed and strong,
Hoping that he will come along,

To wipe away her falling tears,
And love her through the coming years...

By Charlene Flanagan

For that Special Someone

When I look into your eyes,
The whole world stands still
You hold me captive, 
Your kiss, a thousand stars
Yet all the time can never be enough...
 
Be still my heart, 
For I shudder at the pace you beat
For a man who makes me complete
His touch, one glance
Makes me feel things I've never known
 
Yet, all the time can never be enough...
Enough to make him feel the same
Enough to hear him call my name
I'd give him the world and more if I could
Just so he knows...
 
Knows what his presence does to me
Knows just how happy I can be
Knows just what to say to make me smile
He makes the wait worth the while
 
Be still my heart,
For I know too well
Exactly what your words will tell
It speaks of a man, not far away
A man for whom you crave all day
A man who makes your world go round
A man who holds you to the ground
A man you hold so close to you
A man who makes everything anew
 
Yet, all the time can never be enough...
Enough to know a love like this
Enough to hold the sweetest kiss
But, for his love I've come to know, I'd start with forever...

By Charlene Flanagan