In The Mist

She held me -
as if I belonged to her
nothing else existed
no wind, no trees -
no leaves.

A mountain
trapped between two valleys
a trickle and a stream
a place where dreams are held
captured - but unheard.

So precious is the sound
wrapped in rain
feelings…..
droplets, which began
like smooth morning jazz
a clarinet
closed eyes - and
dancing fingertips….
on my ivory skin.

Morning's tender lips
which kisses me
suspended -
in the mist…..