The reality of a walk in the woods

Written by: Paul Shaw

The beckoning still of a pool of 
blue flowers
(Her eyes, they lure and I drift)

Sunlight  filters above
(Her hair, soft, slips through 
my fingers)

The caress of a whispering  
breeze
(Her voice, provocative)

The subtle turbulence of flora 
(Her scent, sensual... come 
closer)

Droplets gather and fall
(Her tears, she is vulnerable)

I want to take her hand
(I can’t)

We walk in the woods
( It is nothing more)