The wait
massages my soul
as I become still.
My breathing
finds a cadence
like a monk in meditation.  

In my dream
you pose for me
as your tongue
licks nectar
from petunia buds.  

I conjure
florescent shades
unlike those
any artist
can splash
on canvas.  

The wait for you
is as near to heaven
as I fathom
I will get
while here on earth.