Magic of touch

 

The magic of contact.

An arm around the waist,

a gentle stroke

across your wrist,

a delicate kiss from fingertips

upon skin.

The way a hug feels like bliss

and that nothing could ever hurt again.

 

It’s something

we neglect,

the gentle touch,

the way two arms

can interlock,

helping us to trust

that your feet wont

suddenly

stop

in shock

and forget how

to stand

on the spot

suddenly falling,

flailing

into

the hole that

has opened up.

 

The magic touch.

Just a light breath on a papyrus page,

a feather against the grain,

a slight fleeting

moment of contact, which eases

the internal acid rain.

Stops the conflict in the brain,

to remind that being human

is all about play and love conquers pain.

 

The magic of a finger drawing

hearts upon your canvas,

the way every delicate line

lingers before fading

in a momentary connection

to the universal mind.

The way a hand holding tight,

feels divine,

making this world feel

less of an ordeal

and more like

your head has taken flight

into a sky full of dreams.

 

The magic of touch,

a hug holding you like

a warming blanket of love.

The way we connect like jigsaw pieces 

so perfectly linked.

I thank the universe above

and the world all around

for those that held me

when I was lost on a cloud.

When I felt the world crumbling

as the walls all started to fall down,

holding me tight

on those darkened nights.