When Waking Alone
There is little I can do to physically fill this void,
knowing she is everywhere but here,
I can feel her, touch her sweet mystique, imagine,
yet, in the moment,
I won’t, I cannot, I, though I yearn, I want,
in the quiet of a moment, I wish I might know,
the pulse of her heart is the same as my own,
I wish when I create fantasy,
I might have the inside look, the glance, her eyes,
if I could only hold onto that passion for this waking hour.
The rush, the sweep toward my lips, the eyes that plead,
when then we meet and time does stop, our search,
our bodies in a unison that waits for direction,
yet allows soft, sensuality to carry this peace as far as we can.
It is there in the waking hour I wish only to be … with you.