Waiting

in her eyes I am an artist,

in her eyes I am special,

in her eyes I am so many things;

and so I am;

she defines the limits,

she sets the parameters,

she creates the boundaries;

I want to hold her next to me,

my head pressed to her center,

my senses becoming flooded

with the magic from which

she was created;

my inner being filled

with the spirit of her light;

quietly I wait for her to rise,

sitting somewhere just beyond reach,

somewhere on a lookout high above,

like a predator waiting for

the coming dawn,

ready to feed on her

morning energy;

so that life may be sustained;

and thinking that finally

she is here.

.

.