(a poem I found from '03 about a crush a few years earlier)

Blue pillow,
dented from sleep,
a whispering of dreams
hangs like a cloud
above your seams....

The blanket
mother gave
is rumpled,
my eyes saved
from dreaming about you,
of all that I won't do....

Later...

the tease you give
with words,
I return like a serve,
then,

a moment.

We're caught
alone,
with only thoughts.....

in darkness,
that ends
quick,
just then, I'm feeling sick.
Later, I settle for
words whispering the pour

of how I fantasize
about you, behind eyes....
On
paper, quietly,
I keep this all to me....

Next Day......

The blanket
mother gave
I rumple,
as I savor
my dream about you,
of all that just won't do....

still,

the words you speak
with curve,
return the gaze that serves
an undercover wish,
but I swear, you feel it.....

the moment ends too fast,
but it simply CAN'T last.
Instead, I settle for
words whispering the pour

of what I long to say,
of how I'd take all day
just to explore you-
can only WRITE this truth.

'Cause, it would not be proper,
it could not be right,
you'd lose much too much for
taking me outright........

I'd give you me, outright.

Blanket mother gave
is waiting for the save
of limbs to warm the blue.
Just then, I think of you

and know that I'll take comfort
despite our cruel circumference,
'cause
paper, quietly,
will keep this all to me.......


copyright 2007 Rose Loya