Yet To Be
Warm air carresses my neck,
Bringing forth warming memories.
The breaze becomes your breath,
The gentle rush of wind against my hair,
Becomes your hand softly stroking my locks.
My skin tingles with the lengering sensation
Of your touch, of your arms pulling me
Closer to you, feeling your chest rise and
Fall against my own chest movements.
We talk through devices, longing to
Be able to touch, intoxicating ourselves
With every kiss, with every carress,
With every contact of flesh upon flesh.
Yet, distance of obnormality worries us
Of the future set before us, and of
The choices we have yet to take action on.
But, the earth turns and the moon circles,
All will be seen in time if we shall last.
-Anna 3/5/2000