In office she bathed in olive gold,
She smiles a story quietly told.
When laughter stirs the Zephyrian portals,
Summer winds pass through gates immortal.
My secret stirs in the air she bends,
Drawn where dawn and daylight blend.
Her beauty blooms in a Grecian hush
Breezes soft I dare not rush.
Between us, friendship’s woven thread,
Holding close what stays unsaid.
So the west wind moves, gentle and free,
Bearing a longing only I see.