Touch


It is too dark to see,

the moon has

not yet risen.

I just lay here, in

his arms, strong arms,

comforting arms.

I can feel his heartbeat

gentle rhythm of the soul,

always there.

His fingers move,

slowly tracing the curve

of my back, sending

little shivers dancing

across my skin.

I feel the warmth of his

neck and face beneath

my fingertips. His feet

are warm too. Funny,

mine never are.

His warm breath flows

across my face

and neck,

liquid comfort.

His eyelashes brush my cheek

as he opens his eyes,

though they

are useless.

Right now

all we have is touch.


(2/99)