The day drifts now,
Toward evening
Swans on a pond, evenings
Spawn circles expanding
Into vanishing
Rings, night's water
Always hiding
Those hidden
Stories, dangers, dreams
Between ducks and
Swans, as they glide
Without sound
Within these rings
That reach out
As I reach out
To you, evanescent
Yet real, as
Wind caresses you,
Finding the softness,
Between your breasts,
Invading without
Effort, sliding in
To crevices and
Hidden places, like
Water
In branches
Along unexplored
Streams,
Then opening
As if
Into air, as
Mist
penetrating
Yet
Evaporating, but
Leaving my touch, your
Smell, this
Evidence
While angling off
Taking us
Into another
Realm

© 2003 - Sam Hamod