No, I will not allow myself to fall in love with you.

I do not want to feel that light headed can't stop thinking of you floaty feeling. Nope, not going to do it. You can send me as many bunches of daisies or wildflowers or even roses that you like. Have them wrapped in pretty paper and delivered to my door.

I will not fall.

Golden ribbon wrapped nougat filled chocolates won't turn my head either. Nor will all the pretty compliments in the world. I've had all those things. They fall flat. I am no material girl to be bought with pretty sapphires or emeralds.

You can't make me fall in love with you.

That red mustang convertible of yours doesn't impress me either. You can take me on rides, let my hair flow wildly out the top. Turn up the radio and play me sweet tunes. All of these things will not work.

I will not allow you to turn my head.

But then you bring me to the mountains, take out your guitar and sing me a song that you've written. And then you pull a rake out of your trunk. (what an odd thing to have there) and you gather up some leaves. "Come here" you say with a smile. My feet shuffle through them, then you turn me whirling me round and round. You throw the leaves in the air about me and they are caught up in the vortex I am creating. Some get caught in my hair as I'm spinning. You make me giddy. I can't help but smile...

and then