Realization
I fear
the mischief in her blue-eyed kitten-smile
and could it be that it
was she herself
who stole
the sun's September glow
so playfully to brush it in her hair
and would I never dare admit
I've been distracted by
her subtle quiet elegance
and graceful velvet poise
some time before?
I fear
the quiet tranquil waters of her soul
untroubled warm inviting
but with a depth
that is to me
unfathomed and unknown
And having come here never to resist
I shall be drawn
in my naïve impulsive way
to seek her out beyond the water's edge
confessing if I venture out too far
I know I'd drown
I fear
the haunting of the memory of her touch
of silent ecstasy's embrace
when time itself's adrift
so tenderly astray in her perfume
and dare my lips trace that exquisite line
that runs along her slender chin
to ebb in trembling adore
upon her offered neck and throat
and will the thought of her that time
invade the fitful turmoil of my dreams
until I wake?
© Jon Bohrn (1997) ("On the Water's Edge")
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