I rush, every noon,

To the rustle – I hear,

And, your gentle presence.

I wait, with the windows open.

You envelope me;

Stealing my thoughts,

Massaging my inner self.

Those few moments,

I would say of bliss.

The afternoon sun, lazing

Along with me.

There in your presence

I am safe;

From the madness of the world.

I want to remain so;

Until I hear the quick footsteps.