Poem For The Wind

Are you standing or sitting?

Did you look, or do you see?

What was the scent of your look
as you leaned in to touch my face with your fingers
as your lips quivered (just a little)
held so close without touching
so close without consuming mine

With hunger, you saw
you stood and you sat
quickly, you were here
and I know it

I remember fondly
and I dream eagerly

Now, you are sitting
Perhaps, if you are not teasing
you will lay before me
hungry and no longer waiting

But, that is up to you
for you should know enough to
jump
into
the
game

Game? Yes, it is the game of
what we make out of life
the secret rules about
what we crave
the secret words about
my touch, my scent, your look