She came as if a shadow
Of all that I had known—
The faded memories of someplace
Like my childhood home,
Not in loud obtrusive colors,
But soft and earthy tones,
Like a whisper in the darkness,
A shaky voice when found alone.
Not by corporeal form
Was my heart first wooed,
Though it's time would come,
Like a breeze in June.
But she was just a thought,
A dream, a memory, a mood,
Unlike the taste of wine
Nor the touch food,
More akin to its memory,
Its hope, and a looking forward to.
She came with no trumpets
Blaring in the wind.
Fit to herself, she came
As herself; heart, soul, and mind,
And no more she needed,
As she would find
My heart ready to give
Onto embrace and bind
Myself unreserved, foolish
Or fortunate I will find.
But the act has not ended,
The curtain undrawn
Exposing the fears
And hopes of a dawn.
Irrelevant and irreverent
I stand unconscious of wile.
My eyes cannot see
Beyond the sunrise of her smile.