To Wade.

The Boy is The One.
The One whom I'm afraid to have.

When The Boy draws near, I run.
When The Boy drifts away, I tear.

The Boy is my dream.
I'm afraid for it to flesh into reality.

Should it go awry, then my dream would be in tatters.
And that would spell the end of me.

This fear governs my oscillation
Of Yearning yet Avoiding.

The waters stir with alluring ripples.

Should I fling myself into the deep end?
Should I stay ashore?

I cannot swim,
But maybe, I can learn to Wade.