This feeling in my stomach,
The weakness in my knees,
The nervousness I feel,
Maybe True Love is real.
My tongue is tied,
Words falling empty from mouth.
The time becomes slow, yet
We have talked two hours in a row.
The anticipation met by beauty and grace,
The anxiety gone, to elegance in place.
Comforting from, likeness and past,
Maybe this woman might last.
The connection is made, end of poem,
Will True Love stay or will True Love roam.