She calls to me
Omnipresence in mornings mist.
Plays like notes of a flautist.
Permeating all that stir,
Like frankincense and myrrh.
Painting my mind with willows brush,
Stroking my heart with recall touch.
Wafting me in a phantoms flair,
Embracing me in fragrant air.
Dancing under my eye lids,
Shadows on a blood red grid.
Irradiating moon light streams,
Coloring through a torrid dream.
Her movements a mesmeric dance
I watch it, transfixed in trance.
And wonder at this visions goal,
Burning in my aching soul.
Does she call me in genteel?
In the softness of conceal?
This I plead, in my persist.
Till the sun dries up the mist.
Do I wait, another phase,
Till I meet her in the haze?