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What are you waiting for?
He came to me in a dream
a fantasy
an inclination
like the scent
of morning's breeze
unsure of his intention
drifting down the mountain side
unseen
by rustling leaves
the note of a distant
lover
some sort of tease
what was he thinking
what
did he want from me
floating through space
waiting for my plea
I feel your breath
on my neck
fingers on my skin
thoughts of who, what
where
places I have been
I find myself
aroused
memories of past
when I was young
lost in love
and time sped by so fast
open window curtains
shimmer
flutter in the breeze
he leaves me as he found me
weak
in the knees
he minces my memory
plays this part
so well
the nature, perhaps, of morning
and morning's breeze
won't tell
