I feel fingers
catch in threads
of my hair
a stinging caress
I turn into
sure its you, but
I'm alone
with the wind
I miss
the feel of
your calloused hands
the way they cupped
my breasts and how
I arched into them
back bowed, tender willow
bending to your elemental
whims, my lips parted
unfurled petals
awakening to your spring
now the dead fall
the brittle snap of leaves
windows obscured by frost
and these days that pass quickly
into long nights of solitude
I walk into the wind and smooth
those threads of hair back
into place.

10/10/2002

Posted on 12/31/2002
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