By Mirabeau
Date: 27 November 2000
To The Heart Of The Matter
You can catch me
in a net or tightly woven words
so neatly that I never feel caught,
make me sigh
snag my attention,
or maybe only my breath
as the heart skips a beat,
or perhaps just leaps
in the classic style.
You sir, are a danger
to a slumbering spirit
who has ceased to count on love
as something possible.
You make all the love songs plausible,
fantasy feasible,
and dreaming something
I just have to try again.
You are a danger, sir.
And my heart is waiting
for you very next word.
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