She sits poised.
Waiting impatiently. Ready to fly away yet still waiting.
Hoping, wanting needing.
She yearns for his touch. To hear his heartbeat.
To feel it pulsate inside her.
She sits poised.
Offering herself. Submitting to his will and his will alone.
A lesser man will not relish her capture.
She sits poised.
She is masked to all but him. To him she bares all.
She is in her most natural form.
She embodies all that he desires.
If only he would reach for her.
She sits poised.
Only for him. Only for them.
Her wings will never full spread if not for him.
She sits poised.
Without them she is more delicate than the flowers.
Fragile to light, sound and touch.
Yet even rain, hail or wind will not move her.
For him, for them, she waits.
She sits poised.
He sees and is in awe. Surreal and visceral is his longing.
Closer he comes. Intent on his goal.
She sits poised.