Passion of the Wind

I see you sitting by the porch,
Sippin' the warm coffee gingerly,
Along with the cool spring breeze.

I move your hair that covers your lovely face,
Tickling your inner ears and your neck,
I need to show you something as I touch a rainbow.

Your amazing eyes innocently flutter,
The response of the droplets sprinkle
From the fresh wet rose that awaits for you touch.

You look at her, she's vulnerable, you want to comfort her,
She hasn't bloomed yet,
She has been taken away from her home.

You're afraid of touching her,
She might lose the beauty that she hinders.
The waxy bud just lays there on wooden table.

You can't resist anymore,
You must lift her and comfort her on your soft breasts.
You are eager on her scent.

Upon the touch of your fingertips on the rose,
She blooms and the cloud crack open letting the sun shine.
The dimmed brightness blinds you as you are aroused,
As a voice whispers in your ears,
"I love you."

You are suprised & want to know who said those secret words,
I am nowhere to be found nor ever seen.
Everyday you sit on that porch,
And everyday you are gifted with a new miracle.
I am your angelic stranger watching over you.