By Rebecca L. Morrison
I felt you taking off yesterday,
bitten by Northern winds.
Your lips visited my cheek
and I blushed, I held you closer.
I heard you taking off yesterday,
hundreds of feet away.
And the wires resounded with
my lengthy questions.
I watched you taking off this morning,
'neath a blanket of slumbered eyes.
And your white chariot blazed its way to
my girlish anticipation.
But as you took off,
I felt neither flight nor fancy:
only rivers of yearning
as they clung to my chin.