I find myself preoccupied with
hope and her playful,
silent affections with distinct
feminine pleasantries that yet
pervade as grandiose dreams
slip-away, little by little like tears
shed in a hard southern rain, never
to be captured again.
Even now, at a distance, her
clever words do touch something
within me, reminding, she
still harbors tender want
kept alive, keenly fostered
like a beautiful butterfly
in a jar, and I feel her
love is never far,
eagerly waiting for fate
to assist, or her heart, to cast
an impassioned spell into
the winds of change.
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