A Child's Tug

The breeze tugs at our clothes,
Like a child,
Trying to get our attention,
Trying to whisk us away,
But it can't,
Because we've already swept each other away,
Off to distant faerie fields,
Where our hearts dance to ancient rhythms
Piped across the vale by prancing fawns,
Their lips pressed tightly to high-pitched pipes,
As mine lightly caress yours.
Lost in each other's embrace,
We stand still amidst the swirling turmoil
Of people mindlessly running through time,
As oblivious of the fantastic medieval muses
Singing in the air
As we are to the gray stainless steel towers
Which dominate the world's incessant business.
Our eyes are filled with the glorious vision
Of each other
As our love warms our thoughts,
Filled with airy castles
And angel's harps.
We fall deeper into clouds of bliss,
Floating across the heavenly vale,
Never wanting to let go of each other,
As the muses' smiling faces
Look on,
Singing their song
As the fawns prance
And play their pipes
And the breeze tugs on our clothes,
Our waiting child.