When.

I've to put the book down, while the journey was only halfway taken.
I've to lay my head down to the window that gives a shrill of breathtaking views.
I've to surrender my wandering thoughts.

Only to hum this:

When a man loves a woman,
Can’t keep his mind on nothin’ else,
He’d change the world for the good
Things he’s found.

If she is bad, he can’t see it,
She can do no wrong,
Turn his back on his best friend
If he put her down.

When a man loves a woman,
He’ll spend his very last dime
Tryin’ to hold on to what he needs.
He’d give up all his comforts
And sleep out in the rain,

If she said that’s the way it ought to be
Well, this man loves you, woman.
I gave you everything I have,
Tryin’ to hold on to your hot blood
Long.
Baby, please don’t treat me bad.

When a man loves a woman,
Down deep in his soul,
She can bring him such misery.

If she is playin’ him for a fool,
He’s the last one to know.
Lovin’ eyes can never see.
When a man loves a woman,
He can do her no wrong,
He can never hug some other girl.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

(in a world where gender-biased would be an outdated opinion, just change, alter, or do whatever you readers feel like doing with sexes)

Does being in an upheaval feeling mean stopping the logic to work in its own way?
Does being in ecstatic ride mean being blind?
Does being in one mean to refuse what other angles may bring?
Does that mean I have to stop questioning?

In a crowded world where people and their chatterings may see you differently, where the time has politely persuaded me in bringing my amazement to the extent what you may become, where innocent assumption could only clash to bitter-sweet reality, you remain as these things to me.

Wise.
Calm.
Independent.
Mature.
Caring.
Loving.
Patient.
Planner.
Leader.

In all dreamy qualities one can ask for, I stick to that particular imagery of your silhouette.
As well as to let you go.