She Waits For Him

I waited for him to come,
I could feel the aching
hallow inside of me,

yet I trembled in fear
at the thought of his fingers
upon my skin,

would the burning desire
engulf my soul
my heart chard to ashes,
my skin smoldering?

Or would I be turned to stone,
frozen, paralyzed in awe,
my need so great
the weight of it
keeps me anchored,
my throat tightening,
my tongue swells,
so speech will elude me?

He may turn away
if I am rooted,
and silent,
and I would not
be able to call him back.

Perhaps I can only
crumple to the ground
at his feet,
wanting him to hold me
quietly as I bury myself
against him,
unburden my heart,
and painfully he must watch
as I fall apart.

I hear a rustle
of movement
and hold my breath

but it is only a fox
upon the garden walk,
cunning, sly, it seems
to gaze upon me
with soulful knowing eyes.

At first there is sharp relief
then only crushing regret,
a bird signing my sorrows,
the wind cries with me......

and then unmistakably

a footstep.