A slip of hope?

A Sweet Wind

I have often watched closely in our time together
the way you can sneak in a mischievous smile
and how you always seem to be coyly looking up at me.
Even if it just the slightest tilt of your head
you are evermore the seductress I love.

The warm winds here carry you to me every day
and return you in the still dusk of nocturnal que.
They are untainted by our quarrels and mean thoughts
and instead sing a sweet song of hope.

They sing of how you were my earth and
how you are still my sky
with the whisper of your name,
bringing back all of the smallest dear details of your frame
and how I am destined to intertwine with it.

Oh, how I long for the simplest touch from any part of you.
The simple, clean fragrance and your sweet taste
caresses me even now, without your intent.
It is the same as the beauty of a pure horizon
and weaves itself so in the fabric of desire.
Stumbling like a newborn baby doe
or lashing with the sharp claws of a lioness,
it is the soft sand and it is the sharp rocks.

Cut me with your words, your tongue, your nails,
doing so with a whisper or a glance.
Bid me to dance for you or any herculean task of your choosing
for the chance to be your own.