By Charles Robert Lindholm
I Wait For Her
In The Backside Of The Night
At The Place We Always Meet,
My Old Desk,
Where I Always Go To Write
The Light’s Down Low
In The Silence
Chasing Back The Darkness
From Paper Smooth And White
No Hustle And Bustle
Interruptions
Intruding On Our Precious
And Fleeting Time Together
She Comes And Softly
Wraps Around My Soul
Whispering Words
Of Love For Me
She Holds My Hand
As I Hold My Pen
And Write The Words
She Whispered
My Pen Lusts
For The Smoothness
Of Paper On Which
To Make Long Stokes
Of Red Ink
And The Chance
To Create A Love Poem
With Words
Soaking Deep
Below The Surface
I Feel The Rush
Of Oneness
As My Muse
And I Finish
Our Sweet Connection
And As She Leaves Me
She Puts Her Sweet Lips
Upon My Paper
And Places
An Intimate Kiss
On The Words
I’ve Written
So You May Know
The Love Of My Muse
And Feel It
When You Read Them
Copyright © 2018 Charles Robert Lindholm – All Rights Reserved
Inspired by my response to a comment from Auroraboros on Paper Pages
Thanks to DavyD for his SPACE and sparking my comment that inspired my Paper Pages!
Poet's Corner 