The Human Touch

The Human Touch Your place in my heart is not always better than the touch of your hand. Emotions do not embrace and caress the flesh that enfolds worlds of desire. Yet, we settle for soft ripples of remembrance and distant communication Because even innocent contact implores a response and realizes the romance. The touch rushes the blood of love through the skin as it escapes the pores And makes apparent the heart's feeble weakness for courage of expression. Like quicksilver, tactile electricity demands an immediate response And its ruddy expression paints instant recognition of the nervous solicitude. In quick manner, the heart stops to await helplessly a return of warm consideration As, meanwhile, the flesh courteously presses its rash convergence for signs of limitation. Anticipation steers the mystery of pawing intentions and inevitable reaction As fingertips strive to measure degrees of inner thoughts and emotions. Soon the novelty turns to a mechanical grip or a spiritual enclosure. The curious hand begins to calm the impatient, longing heart And to create an indelible memory as it feeds the relentless brain The simple delicacy of the intimate human touch.