stealing me

her curves, they do speak...a silent pause, she does not know...

words are not enough, for she is a silhouette of a divinity.

in her wake, I am less than and more than the moment life began.

the subtleness of her serendipitous self, she is as no make that could have been made with mere hands.

no glory so true, no utopia so free as when she stops and steals a moment with me.