the sound of softly falling rain

echoes  of your footfalls

the mystery of you, ebyama hold their own appeal

you are the writing on my wall

the ants stock up for their future, as I save myself for you

the tables have already turned,

all the cards spread turned up

fuel’s to fire, as you are to me

you open your eyes and everything in me comes to life

but I am not jumping through hoops just to please you.