I remember times when as a child, my mother told me 'don't touch.'
I never quite understood it' and numerous times I asked why.
I remember how she told me 'because its beautiful.'
A sentence that had made so little sense to a little me, I would never have thought it would mean so much now.
Tapastry, flowers, and perfume bottles; the beautiful things about which I was told 'don't touch.'
That remark about beauty resonates with me now, for when I looked at her I knew in an instant that she was beautiful.
Hast that been the reason for all of the miles in between?
Long black hair, a warming laugh, curves, and a smile that serves to out my stomach into knots; the world screams three thousand some miles of 'don't touch.'
I ask myself why, fore I just can't comprehend it.
Its because she is beautiful, and oh how I have never wished more that I could touch what has captivated my soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely, Breanna. Sometimes the things you can't touch, touch you.