drawn to her touch, her gold laden speech

just the faint grasp of drifting fingers

emerald envy for another time, dragonflies, tantalizingly out of reach

each second sighs and withers for her, passing on to yet another

obliviousness lends agony; steals the ordinary trickle of time

for me each brush turns languid, syrup slow moments

possibility left hanging on to thin rope

each spark fizzling out into ash from a figment flame