she doesn't have to say a word
not make a sound
because the room,
sensing her return,
has left its soul open
had left open it's doors
and windows

outside,
faces in the water
swirl
and compete
over waves and valleys
troughs and crests
just to catch a glimpse
of
an undying beauty
and just to catch
the scent
of her sweat

I am sitting
in place
and tied
to a flimsy
fold-up chair
when she walks though the door
bringing with her
the wind
as the curtains wave
at my situation

she walks to my
knees
and stops
while the birds all gather
and sit
on the open windowsill
and watch

in between
picking at the termites