about some dame

im making a box,
taking the measures,
of your slim frame.

you are to blame,
for all this flame,
burning down all i write,
with the sun,
coming out your eyes.

im standing in your sea,
staring at your sun,
a flaming sphere of fun.

this is a fine line,
i can play with your flame,
all night long,
singing a song,
about some dame,
and her sweet,
sweet game.