The Wind

A winsome wind carelessly whorls her hair.
I’m jealous of the wind that moves through her hair.
Look deep in her eyes, my fingers ensnared…
I want to be the wind that plays in her hair.

Full to the sun the wind brushes her lips.
I’m jealous of the wind that licks over her lips.
Faces so close, just a taste would be bliss.
I want to be the wind that kisses her lips.

An impish wind billows beneath her dress.
I’m jealous of the wind that lifts up her dress.
Her tender skin would feel my cooling caress.
I want to be the wild wind under her dress.

She blushes as the wind whispers warm in her ear.
I’m jealous of the wind that speaks in her ear.
So much I want to tell her;
anything she wants to hear.
I want to be the wind breathe my love in her ear.

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