Nightsong

The Nightsong is being sung. Can you hear it?
Attentive ears heed the splendid singing of the stream skimming over smoothened stones and sand, winding its way through a wood enchanted by the Nightsong.
Roving eyes rest on the tall, stately trees, cloaked in magnificent mossy majesty. Their leaves tinkle in melodious harmony to the soothing sound of the brook singing the Nightsong.
Skin tingles as a warm night wind weaves her way through the regal trees, and whispers to fallen leaves, enticing them to waltz with her to the Nightsong.
Vision is enhanced as mellow beams of moonlight drift downward to land on the forest floor and ride on ripples of flowing water.
Exquisite fragrances are freed from the flowers on the forest floor, passionately responding to the Nightsong.
All around, the Nightsong is being sung. Just listen.

Just Me

My hands crave the tender touch of another, bigger, stronger, holding them tenderly.
My ears desire to feel the warm breath as my love whispers softly, words of undying love and affection.
My eyes long to sweep over his face and memorize every defining feature.
My heart hungers for the passion felt when he kisses my mouth and my fingers find their way through his hair.
But there is no passion to feel, no face to peruse and memorize, no whispered pledge of devotion, no strong arms to hold me.

Nothing.

Just me.