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 possession
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 