My fingers draw lines on skin that has none,
navigating a road not taken by a woman before,
where men have lost their way journeying over hills,
through valleys, on a path without signposts.
It is a landscape that offers no clues, just a silent
beauty that lingers long after I have conquered.

My hands are on the control panel
I could press stop or even pause
But I pass it to her hoping she knows
That I want the decision to be hers.