I have never seen you
in such detail
as I have seen you then.
The tremble in your eyes,
the lips a touch darker
at the edges, as you sway
to the wind’s whiplash.
The lime prairies behind
the stifling brick house
attest to your presence
like a ripple over
an excited crowd, jittery
in anticipation
But, the sun still dips
and the night must come.
So when my hair ruffles
into my misty eyes
I think,
Does the wind speak
of your coming?

~ ~