what is it that draws me,
like a child learning to walk...

that leans slightly forward with
each step until it has momentum enough
to carry it to it's destination,

where it reaches for the air
just in time to catch it's imagined wonder,
or falls in awkward attempt to hold on.

what is it that draws me,
into the forest that in it's silent days
still brings the songs of imagined wonder,

and as that child learning to walk
I reach for the air, to grasp in hand
that which seems so near, yet remains
just a step beyond the edges of the path,
in the undergrowth, where lay the mystery.

I am drawn, yes, like a wondrous child,

beyond that edge, and into the darkness of
the thickest of trees, into the scent of flower
that raises it's breath through winter's leaves,

like little voices calling me to leave
the familiar, and kneel in gentle spirit to
touch the air that surrounds, or to catch
a falling feather,

grasping in awkward attempt to hold on.

the fog holds the morning silent,
and the path disappears in it's grasp.

it falls from the bare branches like rain,
thick, heavy, until it breaks free and
falls to the ground.

the forest is sometimes a quiet and
lonely place...and I trod slowly on this
morning, in sullen trepidation.

I know the clearing will be there
without you, the collar that harnesses
your heart will hold tight and we will
always be separated by our past.

you, dressed in the design of my dream,
will always remain that one touch away.

life will take us both forward, as it always will...
but I will never be the same now.
I have seen love.
I have known, and touched, the face of love.

as I walk, I slowly pull my hands from your face,
and I turn...away from the eyes that sweep me
into you, and I cry...yes, a tear was bound to fall.

and as it falls, it becomes as the mist surrounding,
and breaks free from the bare branch of my heart.

can I speak to you...speak as though you were
held in my embrace, and tell you now...tell you
with a voice that shudders in the joy, and even the
sorrow, that I have always loved you.

I will always love you.

now I will walk again,
through the rest of this morning,

and think of you as love.

I am afraid...

that we will always be
just one moment away
from touching one another,

as though the universe held it's
breath for just a second,
and we became lost,
in the middle,
of that breath...

I walk in the hollow of your dreams,
as spirit,
free of the restraint of your conviction.

prowl, hunt me, seek me
in the chill of a winter's night.

feed me the intimacy of nature's desire.

cast eyes upon me that I can not resist.
seek me as no other, and speak to me
in the privacy of your dreams.
I am yours. (I will dream to you)

still, as I sit here,
and yet so far away is the night, yet still
I feel your fingers digging into my back.
my lips upon yours as fierce and possessed
as I have ever felt...hunt me.

let passion tread it's own path
as I huddle against the northern wind.

prowl...come as close as you dare
to the naked beast that awaits,

for though it lives in the shadows
it is alive, and breathing among us,
and seeks the air we give so needing.

we are the beast, clothed in fur, seek me.

give me as much heart as you can,
for even now we can not return,
we can not become again who we were,
the path will not return us to before.

I am captive,
in spirit,
and walk in the hollow of your dreams.

while I rock in squeaky rhythm
here in this quiet little room,
the rain gently begins to flake...

and drift like a thousand tiny feathers
slowly, haphazardly, to the ground.

it will pull a blanket of silence behind it.

it will smother the sound of winter in
it's icy and velvet shawl, lain around
the shoulders of a lonely night as I
await the arrival of she who has my heart.

the chill of it's beauty, the snow, still in it's
infancy as it begins to layer flake upon flake,
sends time into slow motion, and the mind wanders,
and searches for an ember of warmth to fill the spaces
left within the quiet of waiting...

and I try to contain my imagination
to thoughts of spring.