2003. All Rights Reserved.
Standing tall on windblown sand,
Slivers of burnt gold whipping in the breeze
Shifting tides whispering against the land;
As like to lover's hiss and gasp and sigh
on the edge of pleasure's ghosting heights;
- where dreams take flight to hail the skies
Then it comes on a nearing wisp. Off the airy fields
with softest touches. A dewdrops's kiss
dusting lightly on bronze svelte, biting only ever slightly.
Showering rough velvet with prinpricks of bliss.
Blue skies rolling, gray clouds riding,
thundering, louder, closer, whiter.
Lost in the myriad of thoughts, the mind's eye delves;
Fantasy images, sight captured in eyes unseeing:
The wind's mournful howl beckoning
The waters lapping against a fading shore;
naught more than a spectre's embrace
The air growing brisk with the gloom, excitement rushing forward
Anticipation whetting the folds and fronds of towering limbs
Swaying near and far to the soundless tune heralding the coming onslaught
The dampness grows cold on the skin, shivers unmasking the disregarded chill.
Streams of fine rivers flowing off the textured tones
as equine teardrops become torrents
dashing aside the quick forgotten flavor of imaginings
Bringing dawning light to haze-filled intellect
Visions dancing among the shadows, drifting across the ceilinged expanse
lightly trapping dreams in reality.
Eyes widen, the skimming chaos of a thousand races bridging the distance
As elusive illusions seem poised to entice an on-rushing attack
Fixing their gaze on the one figure, lone on the grains of time
Sweeping forward, ever drawing close to intimate.
As lips draw back on a gasp of anxiety and ecstasy,
With the last breath released in a hiss as the storm parts and folds
and funnels forward, raging in its blasts and gusts.
All things precipitant to the final exhilirating blow,
as sands kick up and scatter
Seeming as naught less than a tale of Unicorns Landing
Author's Note:
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