Empty sky... pallid light looking like a frosted glass
Darkened land, trampled grass at end of day,
Dry but a cold sense of season's turning.
And thou, a warmth, a present presence
Warm and alive, a hand in mine
the soft touch of hip
once in a while
as we walk
slowly back to a waiting car.
as if by an arranged signal,
turning to look into depthless eyes,
an anticipation of breathing,
wind wanders about your curls.
My hand on the curve
of a trembling waist,
I sense the fear and desire;
the want and the wane
All sight is banished except for your eyes,
all breath is abated except for the wind's.
A warm touching, a pressing, a hunger,
a dancing away and a pressing forward
into my embrace.
Stepping back and seeing you again
now new and familiar