By Kristen Bird, email:  raleigh@on australia.com.au
Date: 24 May 1997

Upon First Meeting

Dreamy warmth, 
The softest touch.
A tap on the shoulder,
A turn.
Quizzical eyes.
Dark to light blue,
I can't make up my mind.
The light catches them,
I catch myself.
Clear as crystal, blue,
Sparkling and shimmering,
The corners crinkle with a smile.
A voice, warm,
Deep and soft,
A voice I could hear
For the rest of my life,
If only you'd let me.
A voice that shall forever echo in my ears.
A strange affliction,
As strange as my own.
This man is a gift.
An example of purity, of poetry.
As art imitates life,
The great artists shall find themselves
Imitating him.
Caresses, soft,
An elbow brushes an arm.
Tingles rushing
Feverishly
Up my arm
At the thought of him
Touching me.
At the thought of having him
I blush.
I smile.
I stumble for words.
A name so soft, so gentle,
It's mention brings
A glow, a rush of feelings,
Unlike I've ever known.
Birds fly free at the meeting 
Of our eyes.
My love,
My realisation of a kindred soul,
My Celtic Satterthwaite,
My Michael,
Mine eternal.