Clean feeling soul
She awaits the touch of the one
Who makes her not whole,
But aware,
She raises her arms
And dances a solo
To the tempo of the swarms
Of thoughts
Her feet are quick
The thoughts rise
And falter in their antics
By themselves
Her smile widens
As the thoughts dim
And all that’s left are trodden
Rhythmic thoughts
Hands and feet
Hit the ground simultaneous
From a slip of beat
And grace
Sweaty and impatient
She awaits his touch
As sweet as it is brilliant
Whole alone
But somehow better as a pair
Author notes
Written February 18th, 2004
What did you think
Comments
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This gives off a modern air. I like all the descriptions you've used, I think this is excellent!
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