I feel the breeze move easy
                    across my aching chest
           as I lay down on this dreary
                  night  to finally catch a rest
          It whispers of your sweet caress
                 I close my eyes to dream

        Lightly touching neck with lips
          and soothing moving fingertips
            I am lost in a  lovers dark eclipse
                 and it  illuminates my soul

         Release me from this fear of sin
          As your breathe moves gently
                       past my chin
           Like the honey and the lemon
                    inside my gin  
             I am hungry for your arms  

            I'd better close the windows
              if I want for you to stay

                  To keep you here
     inside my lonely Waiting Window pane
     Though I know once it is opened
         my attempts will be in vain
  I slowly close the window with my hand  

                   Please come on by
      and set upon the Waiting Window sill
             I will be here waiting
                     and ...
              You know I always will

Cherie Nolan © 2016

.

How do we mend wavering pedestals...
When the ground beneath is parched dry.
Stemming off loose foundations that time had weathered wry.

How do we mend broken gazes...
When watchful eyes which were meant to see,
are blinded by the onslaught of half-truths and fallacy.

How do we mend burnt bridges...
When we never look back to trace heavy missteps.
We fail to admit to consciously springing obvious traps.

How do I mend ailing hearts...
When familiar corridors seem warped to a bend.
When my own is struggling and perpetually on the mend.

Not a face, but an eye,
a single glowing eye.
Watching you and I.

We think it cares, but it doesn't.
It just floats by, disinterested.
A glowing eye in the sky.
An illusion of something that cares,
blind to love and heartache.
Unaware of suffering,
ignorant to it all.

The light it shines, is not real.
Shallow, hollow and devoid of devotion.
Empty of emotions.

Every night, it watches you and I.
Watching but not seeing,
a single, glowing, blind eye.

She has her secret magic
to keep men's hopes alive
she's truly fantastic
the girl the woman the wife

On earth the heavenly flower
in color's riot blooming wild
south wind and summer's shower
god's face is she girl child

The morning though passes to noon
times in her wings fly
she's a woman too soon
the woman of my eye

The woman of all weather
without her man is woe-man
she's wife sister mother
the way only a woman can

She fathoms what men don't tire
see her heart burned and holed
till she walks the whole length of fire
and be the woman in their eye old