influx of peace

palms spread

skyward,

open in meditation,

asking for breath -

the influx of peace -

she paused.

she could detect him

at the edge of her vision,

hovering his hand over top of her palm,

reassuring,

but not touching, not yet,

waiting.

the whisper of a promise,

the moment of serenity

experienced behind closed eyes

meditating on a body

reverberating with the remnants

of low moans

from the Tibetan Singing Bowl.

“Wait,” he said,

and she knew he was coming.

eyes wide shut,

body reverberating,

she paused.

“Wait,” he said.

he was coming,

if she could just wait.