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.

Innocence

Innocence Innocence is its own reward. Given at conception from the grace of the highest love, Fiercely protected from those who might spoil its virtues, And set free to explore a snug island of earthly delights. Pirates of purity raid the fragile sanctuary Attempting to distort every vestige of chaste life. And only the most stable fend off the evil marauders For long tomorrows of pristine perfection. Time eventually weakens even the most innocent As it sweeps away the clean remains of juvenile behaviors And carelessly tosses them away without ceremony Into boxes neatly stored in the closets of the adult mind. Longing and regret eventually occupy the seasoned stage To play their somber roles in tales of lost simplicity And stories of bygone, careless times: Simple, outdated vignettes soon shrouded by drawing curtains. Innocence is the unrealized reward given freely to all. Too quickly undervalued and tarnished By covetous hands of greedy, loveless animals Or by the innocent pawns moved by the rights of natural passage.