When the face of night slowly begins to rise
I touch you
the spectral vision of your beauty
formed only in my mind.
With hands unclenched I rise
to greet what my heart wishes
were your voice like the bells
of horse-drawn sleighs
the tones of doves never sweeter
though woeful cries both reply.
Your face the pale winter's moon
haloed by the sign of coming rains
hands of light firm strength grasping
my gaze in thrall of the tropical seas
in your eyes
the blanket of snow that is your skin
I long to feel it tremble at my touch
would that I could press myself
against your flesh, the smell of jasmine
in the air
and let you take me to the heights of the world
I wait for you there
alone, but dancing.