Intangible dreams, taunting like memories
searching in the mists of time, I feel you
sense that you are near, a gentle caress
feather light upon my naked neck
here, where the grasses sigh and sing in the wind
I am haunted by your spirit
unlike the small things that possess you for a moment
no significance beyond themselves
I am ever lost in your sweet possession
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 