The weary sigh of hot n’ cold
reveals a story to be told.
A tale of her. A tale of him.
A tale of feelings held within.
She took to him, and him to her,
their likeness made the passion stir.
So soon much more than just a game,
like hot, dry fields when kissed by flame.
It grew so fast, like true love will;
a rolling stone down Chinnor hill.
They dared to speak the three words true,
but masked them all in riddled clues.
Now here he stands, but knows not where.
Uncertainty lies in his stare.
He seeks the wisdoms that will tell
if he’s in heaven or in hell.
Yet all the while she’ll do wrong,
not whilst she’s still his only one.
She’ll say the words, though be they few,
to him they’re perfect, through and through.
But now he’ll hide no more of this
emotion, jailed in black abyss.
To her he says the three words true,
but in return her answer’s shrewd,
and all he gets are riddled clues.