holding your hands – anticipation like Friday.
kissing your lips – excitement like Saturday.
feeling your skin – relaxed like Sunday.
missing your presence – always as a Monday; a waiting game with the prize so far off.

The lone wolf runs
wherever he may please,
released as leaves from trees.
Carried aloft by winds that blow
gently carressing the earth below.

The lone wolf strides
to the edge of rock with pride
no man nor fear from which to hide.
Only seeking for something new,
to quench his thirst for feelings true.

The lone wolf paces,
his journey is winding and long,
no others to join his nightly song.
And so he questions his rebel choice,
the pain is clear in his howling voice.

The lone wolf lies down.
Crossing paws and closing eyes;
accepting his fate, alone he dies.

i stepped out upon the balcony
cool fresh air on all sides.
a heavy sense of change
more than any turn of tides.
without desire or urge
i sense its time to be away.
sweep, flit, glide and dive
the swallows have arrived today.

Safe, secure inside a box;
Protected tight, strong by locks,
Never more to feel the touch
Of love, which can hurt so much.

Time has come to find release
For all that lies deep beneath,
Drawing strength from all who’re near
By love, which conquers all our fear.