, , , , , , , ,

Come to me
in the silence of the night,
haunting the spaces of the dwelling,
like a lingering perfume from flowers long gone,
or the first light of the full moon casting.

Come to me in the quite of the night,
like soft crunching of leaves in autumn,
or the heavy fall of rain in spring,
rustling up emotions violently,
or the whisper of the wind that speaks in voices unbeknownst.

Come once all are asleep,
treading as light as a thief,
with your perfume enticing,
trick the mind with charms,
uttering words that weave a tale seducing,
and have me write,
your word per word,
as if without them I’m dying.

Come like a thief,
come duly,
make a habit of stealing,
my hours away from me.
…,your word per word
as if without them I’m dying…