Poem for her 472

Dear Readers,



Two Touch

The fingers interlaced seen over and over
The hand holding that is mingled with
Mingled with and mingled with an unknown
The knowledge that we are touching
But can't tell anyone what it is like
The knowledge that we don't want to stop
The knowing that when we do there is lack
When I sit and you stand and I pull on loops
The feeling you have is drawn near pulled close
There is that tugging at the center of you
The soft touch of fingers on skin clear
The soft kiss of lips on the ankle bare
Sends the goosebumps over you as you read
The lines that you know my fingers touch
Drawing us closer and closer till the spark
Of those skin points and finger pads slight
Making the fire in the grate flare so bright
The fingers interlaced and held close again


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.