One foxy lady.Me
Listen carefully, you can hear the pounding, sometimes its faint and barly recognizable. The patter of a distant drum, slow,,, methodical, but always in sync. Like waves it grows louder now pounding, intense, like sheets of debris, caught in a fierce storm. Panic, excitement, a rushing wind, torment, agony it builds suddenly, frantic, you tremble, perspire, breathless, afraid eyes wide, you gasp...
it's only your heart, the moment she passes by.
By (KING) Paul E. Hyde