. . . Flight, or fantasy, fling, or forever...
which shall it be for us, my dear,
when I arrive at you door, which shall it be;
.
Will we flee upon first sight
admitting the physical world is right
to say that we are not the songs
of love imagined all along…?
.
Or will our flights remain mere fantasies
within the realm of our peculiar work,
loving, chaste, without a touch,
embraces locked in passing whispers,
the sweetest kisses, only smiles
shrouded forever in mystery?
.
Or will it be a wild fling,
the pleasure and troubles it will surely bring,
to satisfy the pleading desire,
“Please, come, let us enjoy our last days of beauty together…”
then to bid farewell at Sunday bells,
perhaps never to meet again…?
.
Or will our pounding hearts demand
we stay together, love, new start,
as if Heaven itself had brought each forever
to one another, until death do us part?
.
These choices, we, to make as one;
and yet, if we should disagree-
my heart shall crumble, and yours may break-
the hazards of this risk we take…
. . . . . . . . Author notes
on affairs...
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Adding your comment:
but you must admit, the third sounds more fun 
