She is mist, she is smoke,
One moment warm solid flesh,
In another just a dream
Disappearing just beyond
The reach of my hands
Only my mind able to
Capture her in images
Set her fleeting figure
Down in useless words
Which fail to capture
The warm skin
I long to touch,
The eager lips
I wish to taste,
The real woman,
Who, dropping all,
Glides her body
Within the grasp of my hands,
Pressing herself to me,
Guiding my restless fingers
Up and down and all along
The secret pathways
Which she reveals and shares with me,
Staying a real woman for a moment,
Before becoming dreams,
Fading into mist and smoke,
For a moment solid flesh.
Donovan Baldwin
