I love how the contours
of certain words
are shaped like you;
How I conjure you,
in dreariness,
merely from a sound in my mind.
Simple little flower,
smiling in the sunshine,
face turned beaming toward the sky.
Creased, crinkled nose,
singing softly to yourself,
Searching the distance,
Seeking the next flower to find.
Gliding through a gilded forest, elegant and alluring,
unencumbered by the cares
of the world in which you reside;
Free, and joyfully for it,
and for solitude
and for time.
Radiant and lovely,
eyes dancing all the while.
Graceful as you fall
upon a bed of sullied sheets,
disheveled,
glancing off and back again,
biting your lip as if
to keep it from a smile.
Temptress, trouble, siren singing,
bless me with you gaze,
Caress my troubled, timid soul; enrapture me,
your willing slave.
Yet your spectre still abandons me, and I long for you by my side.
So I call to you at nightfall, and my dreams do so abide.
