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Phantom of the Night
by
Rusty Broadspear
Skimming over the ocean's surface, under the Sun, under the Moon,
Feeling warmth, cold, smelling salty freshness, meeting the coast,
High above city lights, stars above and below, rising to soar at the edge,
Over mountain ranges that are giving birth to the very veins of life,
Above a virginal earthly cloak of greenery, I circle, soar and glide.
So many passions lie beneath, senses are taut, vision is clear
As I dive in an arcing spiral, lovingly homing in, to my spiritual twin.
Perched upon the sill of the open window, 'tis the sleeping hour.
But she is awake, she writes, she senses and she turns to me.
She beckons me in, closes the window on the cold.
Then we talk with like minds and hearts an hour is but a moment,
Time is stolen away as words dance in the air around us,
Our spirits embrace in sheer delight, hearts pound at what we've found.
'Twas soon time for goodbye to this intense, sensational rendezvous.
She awoke confused yet glowing, and knowing
Pleasures of the night would be with her throughout her day.
Her heart spoke of phantoms,
Whilst in the mirror, all was real in warmth and tousled looks.
She began to comb her hair,
When fleetingly she sensed and saw in her mirror,
That her phantom and deepest love
Was there.
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