Willy---Wonka

From the subtle nuance of a glare, To the powder keg of touch, Love’s embrace to whom we share, Grants a power all too much, The soft touch of the moonlight, To the ferocious heat of the sun, Romantic antics of the night, Sweet yearnings before the day is done, By the water or a fire, Anywhere one can take their loving breath, Hearts pounding with desire, There is either love or there is death, The touch of music on the air, More beautiful with each day’s embrace, Like a veil of deceit lies there, In thine lover’s sight disgrace, With the slow stutter of the heart, The pace of the step grows weak, The most mun