It was the first time hearing him play violen & sing, tales of his deep cords they bring.
As his serene voice flowed, my veins felt a pull, to pen each emotion untold.

Stood in the pivot of the garden hall, like a majestic man he is , with a tint of shyness and hint of nervousness. Turning me into the empath that time , mirroring his emotions.

Rambling across the garden was his gaze , sometimes here and sometimes there, and a few times on me , maybe be dilusion.

I remembered the song he sang , lyrics about confession of feeling, and suddenly the song was on top of my playlist, though it was not my taste.

Listening it on loop, maybe crazy in love, eventually not so my type became my addiction.
What was it, man or song's sweet spell? Perhaps you know, oh so well.



© htk