by Tanisha M. John

Perhaps foolishness built this notion,
or maybe you slipped me a leisurely love potion;
But whatever caused this commotion,
I have to tell you about my compulsion.

I feel compelled to reach out and with my fingertips, 
stroke your hair and touch your lips. 

Through the heat and chaos of the evening rush, 
when our eyes meet everything is hushed;
And in an instant I can glance away hoping for something to say, 
should I see you the eve of the next day.

The music in my ears forces me into a trance, 
The lyrics are telling me to take a chance, 
so I stand up and take your hand and ask if I 
may have this dance;

As this feeling washes over me like rain 
I feel compelled to say I want to know you what's your name, 
And and the subtle motion of the train makes me wonder
if you're to blame.

I feel compelled to hold your hand 
and hold you close, do you understand?
This feeling is slow, slightly refined - 
dare I say what it is - would you mind?

Compulsion by Tanisha M. John

© Copyright 1998. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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