Her

It is Her that drives me.

Her that makes me wake in the morning.

Her that fills my mind as I drift toward slumber's oblivion.

Her hair that drives me wild, Her skin that soothes me.

Any story I have, is meant to be told for Her.

Everything I do is meant to impress Her.

Her that I gaze upon with awe and wonder,

As she confounds me with all Her perfect little quirks.

It is Her that I devote myself to, but it is not me that be the one for Her.