| When the face of night slowly begins to rise I touch you
 the spectral vision of your beauty
 formed only in my mind.
 
        With hands unclenched I riseto greet what my heart wishes
 were your voice like the bells
 of horse-drawn sleighs
 the tones of doves never sweeter
 though woeful cries both reply.
 Your face the pale winter's moon
 haloed by the sign of coming rains
 hands of light firm strength grasping
 my heart
 my gaze in thrall of the tropical seas
 in your eyes
 the blanket of snow that is your skin
 I long to feel it tremble at my touch
 would that I could press myself
 against your flesh, the smell of jasmine
 in the air
 and let you take me to the heights of the world
 I wait for you there
 alone, but dancing.
 
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