Waking in the Wee Smalls

Desire swept across my heart
As wind brushes across a moor
Leaving my senses all ruffled
Blowing open my every window and door.

I stand open, abraded and bruised,
Rustle and tremble as a leaf falling.
I take deep draughts of your rare words,
Loving you as if it were my calling.

Tis a vulnerable season and cool,
The nights want more than blanket’s touch
And my mind knows it’s a want in vain
But my heart won’t listen to such.