Saturday, January 24, 2015

On a memory

I miss the fluent language of her touch,
The reassuring pressure of her hand
In mine, expressing more than words command,
The warmth alone, communicating much.

And when I held her closely in my arms,
And kissed her supple lips, no words were said;
Our kisses were enough, no pledges read,
We were immune from cares, and worldly harms.

While pacing corridors of fleeting time,
I recall meeting in that special place,
Our brief communion sanctified by grace,
The precious moments vivid, pure, sublime.

1 comment:

  1. You caught it well my friend.
    I'm doing a lot of pacing lately.