Reality Vs Expectation.

Sometimes I imagine us,
Walking down a beach,
At pale moonlight,

(although, we'd more be dawdling,
just because I'm so slow).

You'd be holding my hand,
Fingers intertwined.

(you wouldn't dare ask me too dance, or spin, or twirl because you've never been the type).

But anyway, There'd be us,
and the moon,
And not a soul around.

You'd grab me by the hips,
Whisper something sweet.
You'd look in my eyes,
And soon our lips would meet.

(before you whisper something dumb,
and the romance turns to giggles,
we'll try and be serious,
but it will just happen again).

Our lips would come closer,
Framed by a beautiful breeze,
And you'd lean in to kiss me,
Your lips so sweet.
And there in my perfect imagination,
Of you and I,
We'll experience a worldly type of romance,
A romance one of it's kind.

(more often than not,
you'd burst out in laughter,
reminiscing what was said before,
and in one foul swoop,
my romance is gone,
and we're back to being us,
our silly old selves,
which isn't so bad afterall).