WAITING

Naked Dancer
I think of you,
my heart races.
Images flash though my mind,
fast forward
into a blur, mixing
memory
and unrealized fantasy.

There is a promised meeting,
I hold my breath.
Dare I pinch myself
lest I awake
from what you set in motion –
this dream
in which I hold you.

I have survived disappointments,
heart and commitment broken,
have lived with insecurity.
So much like a fickle cat
you give
only on your uncertain terms,
but yet I wait.


© 2004  Robert Birch

This poem appears in RHUBARB PIE: With Just a Taste of Naughty

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