The cool wind blows across my flushed, rough face
As though your fragrant hair has just caressed
Me from above. It won’t slow my heart’s pace
Or slacken my breath. I dream it possessed
Just a wisp of your breath, a hint of rose
That reached down to the burning hot asphalt
Where I stand admiring your fashioned pose
On a sign. Obsession is not at fault
When distance between us isn’t measured
In inches but by possibility,
Offering infinite whims or treasured
Moments suggesting not felicity
But hope. I long for my two-dimensional
World to be graced with your fullest potential.
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