You, elusive
The flit of a sprite
In a pensive forest
Void of day.

The gentlest snicker
Beckons;
And I pursue.

There is no mistaking
The tang of apprehension,
A twist of elegance,
The fluttering,
Skipping beats,
The terror that

I may never
Encounter
You;

Oh, but

The terror that I might.

12/29/2014

Posted on 12/30/2014
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie