|
 |
We Meet In Mid-Air
She’s leaning in
To hear my words
Her hair is crashing
In great waves
Her hand plays
With a lock of gold
I want to feel
I am not bold
She’s moving closer
Dare I reach
This precious flower
Exotic beast
Is it by chance
Or just design
That her napkin
Is touching mine
Her eyes are moving
Gliding up
We meet in mid-air
Butterflies
Positions shift
We move away
Reality
Is weak today
She’s rising now
And brushing crumbs
We search for money
Sordid sums
She lingers
And then skims along
The river
With her maiden’s song
|
|
|
