I eye the clouds racing by as the cool wet wind strikes my face;
reflecting on days past
no - day,
a single day.
Wonder if others think the same with the
stinging of nature's tears against my face,
the autumn air fills my lungs
leaving a longing . . .
longing for the scent of jasmine oil
and the heat of skin
as we moved against the other.
We began sitting facing each other as we ate Chinese and
taking me in
Lost knowing we would succumb to the prohibited feelings that grew;
yet we strode onward to our end
The taste of her moist lips
The strength of her skin next mine.
Our words . . . worlds . . . collided
once . . .