Maple Syrup

by Lyndalee "Dusty" Cress
(Haskell,Ok USA)

I miss him,

the sunshine of his smile

the bubbling mirth,
of his quicksilver

I watch him move
pacing with
a panther's grace

muscles rippling

beneath bronzed

the color of dark
golden sand,

softly he treads
the shifting halls
of my dreaming soul

whether neither

my heart,nor
my mind
dares to go,

and when I'm near

I tremble,

Some say
I glow,
I wonder,do you
think he can

Do you think
he knows?

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