Esther's House

I can't help but dream, flying blind or not,
an arm's width closer, a hair's breadth, then
your breathing reaches inside me, slowly
unwinding passion's sheets,
wrinkles here and there yielding,
the soft, familiar scent lifting me
lifting you, i hold the edge gently

flying, but not blind, only focused on not seeing
touch turns into dreams, i slowly reach
for where you meet me,
linger here and there, gladly
filling myself with you, until it dawns on me
a dream can be real, too

copyright 1998 - jem moore