The air has grown fetid around my every dream for life
schemes to rid me of prospective romance.
I feel disadvantaged by distance, beaten by unyielding time
and mouldy again with manifold duties.
My love and I stood momentarily high on receding white
clouds which never could meet.
Rain weeps on my unkissed condition, gives me no more
chance than battling butterflies
have against wind-rattled frustrated space.
Always flattened by circumstance, drying with wait I am
nectarless not yet being sated.
How can patience keep flying against such great wastage
and still manage to smile ?
Unclad I stand, breast bared ready for nothing more than
the proverbial asp I am adrift but
captured I breath a last dream hoping he catches it.
Deep and meaningful writing. Thank God for writing I sometimes say. Your last line captured my heart Fay!