Poetry - Touch II

Touch II


i have no silk to offer you,
nor satin thread, nor lace,
nor gossamer so fair and fine
to veil this homely face

i have no linen, fleece, nor wool,
nor velvet’s soft conceit-
these are but strands of dirty gold
i bow to brush your feet

a shyer life has left it shorn-
no trinkets decorate-
it bears no curl and no perfume-
so plain, so dull, so straight

yet here I kneel and here I dream,
composing to confess-
i bow my head that I might know
the bliss of one caress

but touch your fingers to my brow
and let them sweep my ear,
but smooth my hair from crown to nape
and still a moment there

but soothe the tangles of the day
my worries, pacify,
but grace me with your human touch
and leave me hypnotized

but leave me happy, leave me loved
and let me smile your name,
but run your fingers through my hair
and I would do the same

i have no silk to offer you
nor satin do I hold,
but let me feel your fingertips
and I shall give this gold