Friday, 26 August 2016 15:05

Her Slight Touch

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A touch on my arm
arrested my movement.
Its pressure lingered,
a prolonged present,

a longed for
presence,
arresting the moment's passing.

Her familiar hand
unseen, familiarly
renewing love.
There was no doubting it.
The moment stood aside
and held.........
It held me
more than any other moment
since her passing.

As a late winter inevitably vanquished
means summer's onset is sudden,
the world seemed light,
warm, clear,
summer-enhanced suddenly.

There burst into my mind
perceptions of great clarity,
neither surreal nor unreal,
but supremely real,
of great moment.
So long unknown, obscured!

Her slight touch,
I once took for granted,
revolved memory,
granting promise and expectation.

It was as if
my whole life
had been leading to that touch,
and everything after would lead from it.

I surrendered to it.
Hope, joy, love, warmth,
a lightness of being....
It seemed somehow inevitable.
It was irresistible,
inestimably desired,
now inestimable.


Member of YSC - 7th May 2008, revised June 2010

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