Stephen Jarrell Williams - Moving Shadows

She still sends me into a dreamy state of wanting her
The room lit slightly by the outside moon peering through
The shine of the windowpane ghostly in the dark

The trees out there swaying in a summer breeze of slender shadows
And she is there moving beneath them touching the heat of their bark
Palming their girth and teasing them until their roots tingle

And she is in here gathering herself in the mirrored wall
Ignoring me until a hint of a smile on her face turns her
Giving me a frontal view of all the pleasure I have ever known

The years have been kind to her
She shall outlast me easily
As I try not to remember placing flowers upon her grave.

Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to write in the middle of the night with a grin and grimace and flame in his heart.  His poetry has appeared here and there and in-between.  He is the editor of Dead Snakes at deadsnakes.blogspot.com