Something happens inside.
You make into something
as it makes you open wide.
A constant wave.
Waiting for that long lost kiss.
When all that you could feel was bliss.
Imagining is not the same.
The touch - the touch is everything!
Direct connection. Feel of energy
that moves us as we move it on.
We rest beneath a setting sun.
Watching colors turn the sky
into a work of art on high.
Parting on another sigh.
The distance comes to intervene.
The river dwindles to a stream.
Until the time to touch arrives again.
But never quite the same.
The stream is shrinking.
Eyes are blinking.
Stares turning into glares.
Imagining is not the same as care...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .