Poem by William James Johnson

Phantom

Alone I sat,
Jotting memories of past loves in poetic metre,
When a tapping on the sill
And rustling branch,
Intruded the comforting sounds
Of a log crackling on the fire.

Toward the window I turned,
Sensing I was watched,
And saw turgid lips
Pressed against the pane,
Steaming the glass with silver mist.
Of native countenance was she,
Her blue black hair
Lit by the glowing embers.

She vanished from the window,
Like a waning dream,
And pounded on my cabin door.
It swung inward,
As she entered,
All white with snow and wind.
Her primitive beauty,
Chilled me to the bone.

Come in.
Come in I spoke.
And close the door.
Come by the fire.
Her dark skin glowed when the log flared up.
The furs she wore, dripped with the melting snow.
Her damp cloak slipped down,
And I covered her tawny nakedness,
With the warmth of my shaking body.

Her eager scent filled my desire.
Her almond eyes set my soul on fire.
As a lightning streak was her craving need.
Upon myself she yearned to feed.
Touching me there, her fingers cold
Sent shutters up my trembling trunk.
Her sparkling white jewels devoured me,
And we were one.
Together fused,
Hardness melting by the dying embers.
She reached for more.
Tingling sparks, her touch infused,
Brought life's return,
Till all was spent.
Even eyes refused to open.

The cold wind seeped into my cabin cracks and I awoke.
The animal skin had pressed within
The image of my love,
And she was gone.
Morning light forced its way along the edge of snow and trees.
Another night of imagined love.
And I felt empty.


View the original art and biography of William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com