I sit, sipping chai,
gazing out the window
at the gray, drizzly morning.
I think of you last evening
as you strode across the room.
I caught a glimpse of your bare back
above the waistband of your jeans,
And longed to touch your smooth skin,
To feel its taut silk beneath my fingertips
where it curves along your spine.
So close. So far away, you may as well
be walking on the moon.
But the warm smell of you,
Even in my imagination,
brings comfort to the cold rain
of my days.