I stand paralyzed when she enters my sanctuary
seemingly without fear.
My heart skips a beat
when she enters my sphere.
At Eucharist she gives me the sign of peace, a gentle hug;
but my heart is not at peace at all.
It races, leaving me speechless, powerless.
I can’t even say “…and also with you”.
Blue eyes penetrate and lock with mine.
Is it really possible for someone to be so sure of herself,
offering love in a look?
Usually it happens just in a storybook.
She stands tall and slender with shapely legs in black stockings;
she turns a quick pirouette, having sensed my longing.
Briefly cocks her head my way, skips a step
and then like Mopsy skips away.
Her regal bearing turns to playful invitation.
With abandon I let myself be drawn to her
and for a moment
I let her be the centre of my universe.
Nothing more to say:
breathe with her deep breaths
pungent aromas, lush red roses
garden wreaths
All at once fear clouds my vision.
What lurks in that look?
Does it have
a hook?
My thoughts have soared far beyond the sign of peace.
Then I unlock the look we’ve shared;
my gaze drops,
declining the dare.
Someday I’ll learn to give more,
want less, and be less paralytic.
Someday I’ll lift my eyes and say
“…and also with you”.