having seen distant lighting…

having seen distant lighting

if
the rains
come
like
passionate kisses
in the night
the grass
will turn
from brown
to green
old dreams
will become
new
if the rains
come

the phone…

thousands
of miles
together
but
alone
invisible touches
and
air-kisses
do not
feel
the same
as the warmth
of your breath
on my neck
one cannot
negotiate
passion
with
hard
multicolored
iphone
plastic

last dance…

listen to the music
of the sun dancers
chanting away
in the day
blowing fragrant kisses
at the sun
hoping to persuade it
to stay awhile longer
so they may dance
upon the wind
and tease
the last butterflies
that mingle with
the autumn leaves
wayward flyers
to some sunny retreat
avoiding
winter’s cold touch
just one last dance
is their sweet request
one that even summer
cannot refuse
what shall we call this dance
ah yes
indian summer