I dare not look too much my hands will shake - adrenalin rush but soft strands of finest gold from your hair clip have come loose dangling sweetly over austere gaze a touch of melancholy to accentuate that loveliest of faces Would that I could I'd snatch you in a trice devour you entire, with incalculable lust incinerating self in Passion's heat Alas, look is all I may a Pygmalion barfly longing for the precious ivory of Ængle lands 26 VII 05