Please send to me a westward wind,
To carry me away
And blow me to my love who waits
To touch my skin someday
My aching arms I fear will die,
If they don’t feel his sweet embrace.
This skin is yearning for his touch,
These eyes to gaze upon his face.
My hands are reaching west for his,
In hopes to touch his fingertips.
My mouth is offered up to kiss,
The passion from his caramel lips.
Please send to me a westward wind,
To carry me away,
And blow me to my love who waits
To touch my skin someday.

©CkC

An ecphrasis-girl watching out her window