She comes and goes like some vaporous waves,
Some shimmering ghostly apparitions,
Undulating on the horizon,
Lilting in and out of my life's journey.

Is she real or just some blurry banshee mirage,
Kissing my senses for but a moment in time,
Here then gone, a budding perfumed scent
On the air, filling me with a promise to ease
My ache and want for sweetness only.

Where does she hide, this veiled vixen,
This wild flower pause in Nature's abundance,
Rooting into my heart, then bleeding me out,
Leaving the space where she once appeared empty.

What magic formula must be the key to fertilization,
What degree of heat will make her vapor rise to my eyes,
On the horizon to which I ride, ever thirsting
For that mirage to quench a thirst that lingers long,
As I pray the mirage is more the real, than not.