Windblown, in the gentle breeze

Hair that’s tangled, in quiet reprise

Thoughts are running, through her mind

She dreams of him, the desirous kind

Longing to have him hold her tight

She wrestles, with the empty night

For he no longer needs her sweet embrace

No appetite for leather, and lace

Has he played her, once again, the fool?

How could she break her only rule?

To never allow him to partake

That which she, would not, forsake

She wonders long, and ponders still

Perhaps it was never against her will

©Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
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