By Lesley Jane Black
The slow spider of the morning creeps,
Its blue haze gently caressing your face.
I watch, silent, as the light changes
Revealing the gentle turn of your nose,
The strong cheekbones
And I breathe.
I do not need the light
To tell me who you are.
We are the same
You and I
Hiding in the shadows
Playing with the light
Waiting for our moment
To be revealed.
We are the same
But you are more than I
You are my world
But your world is not mine
You will step out of the shadows
And I will not need the light
To tell me who you are.
Originally from Scotland but now rooted in the South East of England, Lesley has played with words all her life. She enjoys the power language has to create a mood or paint a picture. She has had work published in Dreich and Soor Ploom Press and her cat is keen on bedtime stories.
Hot Pot Magazine 