Wistfully, gentle and familiar spirit

Incite the breeze to drift by

To prop-up my drooping brow

Whilst I grope, star-lit

For lips that evade contact

Departing to become Nature's booty

Emerald landscape, it is to you that

I groan that his visage be revealed

He, who haunts the pit of your stomach

Beauty that doth feed you well

I command he be seen by those worthy

Living in her

But by me also

Vanquished palms imprint shoulders.

Natasha Haidar © 2003