The Flying Heart.

The bright morning sun competes with the girl who shines as bright,
the girl, whose stealthy gaze finds me in places where the sun can't. 

Far from the place I call home, there is reason for me to smile -

a reason driven by wide eyes piercing through blonde hair.
And, ooh.. my heart flies.

The flying heart is mine, but its destination is never my choice.

Out goes the flying heart, asking "Am I the one?. Am I the one?".

With every flight, gaining in happiness.

Words and days stand between the flying heart and its desire. 

As I watch the flying heart return,without reaching its goal, all I ask is,
"Why again?".

For the million beautiful women out there, the flying heart may fly again.

Sometimes it pains to be flying once more, at another place, for another girl.

But that's my life and that is my deal.