To But Touch

Oh the simple act of holding hands.

The tenderness that only love understands.

Vacant thoughts lost to the sense of simple touch.

Never, oh never have I missed something so much.

Hands now reach, but draw back the empty air.

Fingers in imaginary quest stroke her beautiful hair.

So ordinary / extraordinary is this often taken for granted sense.

If you have, but now lose; then understanding comes to what it meant.

Crazy thoughts rush wildly against the full blown heart tonight.

Noises and bumps against the silence; sad emotions in full flight.

Oh but to touch her sweet hand once again.

Yet it is never, oh never to be any more to this old man.

J. Allen Wilson © 11/10/08