Wildflower Waiting

She lies there in her worn jean shirt and her black silk underwear.

She waits, she wants, she spreads her wings, she flies circles round your daydreams.

She comes out often in the rain, just before the sun rips open the sky.

She welcomes you from the glow in her eyes.

You touched her once before, when the dew was, beginning to form.

On the crest of the new days horizon, waking from the East.

Allowing everything that could be deemed anything, would most certainly constitute a further

examination, to the dreary attempts you forge through your words. 

You watch as your own shadow falls to its knees.

She is everything and everywhere, she is all you've ever lived and breathed.

As if to be a wildflower waiting on the banks of a field.

Feeling the warmth of the Suns rays, off the river water below warming her petals.