A Whisper of Breath
by Audrey M Scott
I am not real,
but a wind historic in Celtic,
a whisper of breath
at your ear, in your hair,
upon your lips.
Caressing you from head to toe
your limbs, your body.
Gently brushing lavender flowers
upon your skin, while humming
of "Highland Hame".
Rustling, like skirts of dancing
Gypsy women on lush green moors,
their hair adorned with pink heather sprigs.
The smell of campfire smoke in the air,
as joyous to hauntingly inspiring
music breathes into your soul.
Seductively my breath envelops you
into mythical dream,
arms, legs, slowly intertwine in
caressing movements, eyes see into eyes,
lips touch to lips, hands stroking softly.
Pouring myself into you, absorbing
you into me, becoming as one.
Captured in heart and soul
by ether full with folklore magic,
a spell forever unbroken.
In dream I make you mine, as
I am yours, and Celtic piper pipes it
in sound waves caught to the wind that
brushes through heather on the hills.
The music speaks of us, flowers
breathe us and the soil shall always remember
we became a part of each other ---
before we met.
Posted on 10/22/2001
Copyright © 2022 Audrey M Scott