Like the dew of the early dawn,

Slipping from the petals of orchid,

Your thoughts slip over my psyche,

Enchanting,

Bewitching and slowly,

I drown in it,

Helpless I am,

And when I hear the breeze,

Rising from your meadows,

It sings ode of your persona,

Of which I wish to be a stanza,

The one with relentless rhyme,

For when you sing your life,

Your lips must hum my name,

And when I write my life,

My pen must ink your reign,

Dear friend,

What are you?

If you are not an addiction.