Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Passions

PASSIONS

Rising, as mist from a white frozen lake,
As a scorching Sun sears it's soft supple flesh.
New Spring morning awakening senses,
Calling, beckoning, pleading its' case.
Crisp and clearing by mid day and yet
Lingering quietly, memory pacing,
Recalling the freshness, the dewdrops on daffodils
Dancing as daylight escapes from its' hold.

Fingers tap softly on silky smooth shoulders,
Patiently waiting for hopeful reaction.
Pictures encapsuled in memory mindful of
Each minute detail I find in your face;
Tasking this creature who dwells here inside of me.
Dare to confront what I know cannot be.
Lord, give me strength to be perfect in battle.
Passions run hot until flesh is stone cold.



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