You may hide before she sees youBut she will find you. She will
Call your name. You’ll hear
Her mad, bewitching moan, and,
You, a shipwrecked sailor, drown
In the undulating waves of her devotion
As she rides the tides of your emotion;
And when she’s gone,
She’ll haunt you
As the day is long,
And you will mourn.
She will wrap you in her long, blonde tresses
Your bones and tendons,
Taut, yet yielding,
Moving where you move.
You must shed your skin
And where the nerves begin and end.
Her laughter falls like tiny drops of mist
She hears the sound that pleasure makes
When pleasure aches
As only pleasure can.
You’ll wish your face were wet with kisses,Her lips upon your lips and lashes
When dawn unties her golden tresses
And dresses her in morning mists.
And when the night softly undresses
The moon will smile her silver smile, her body
More lovely than her face is.
She’ll kneel before you on the groundAnd ask the stars to wear her crown.
You lay her on a bed of down.
Her golden hair your hands caress
With every wave of tenderness
That heaves from one who has been blessed.
And when you lay in deepest sleepShe’ll quietly retreat into the corners of your dreams.
She is more than what she seems.
Neither lover nor wife, she is the dawn that comes
In the middle of your life.
By: Barbara Millar
Copied, pasted and dreamed by: Homeless with a Laptop, that is my Name