The Escapist Poem by Kewayne Wadley

I miss the wind,
A sensual exploration that leads, to chase.
An Infatuation of hysteria.
A calm wisp that allures the ears, descending onward, caressing the skin.
Without rhythm it dances about.
Exploring the utmost of depth merely seeking.
Chill bumps arise from the height achieved from the hair on my arms.
The nape of my neck.
Feeling the shiver that echos from the ripples felt deep inside.
I miss it.
The calm simplicity of a longing heart.
Misleading interpretation.
Swiftly livid in love,
Aching for another glimpse felt by embrace.
Influential as it spreads farther.
Extending it's reach, trailing obsession.
A relentless throb soon to disappear into an empty space.
There I anxiously await your return.
As I miss you, As I urgently await your return.
To receive the gift of your touch once more.
Before you yet again, escape my grasp