I'll wait for you - near the water's golden edge.
Draped in the scent of roses, the suggestiveness
of midnight-black and the twinkle of all that's silver
and white.
I'll wait for you, every afternoon, every after light
near the water's edge. Curls bouncing in anticipation
and a sinking sun between my breasts.
I'll wait for you behind every whispered stroke
of a brush; 'till the paint dries then once again
