Touch Poem by Martin Holm Sjölin

Fever is a bad omen, it has to be.
If I have a fever when I see her
Maybe there's something wrong.
Or maybe it's not a fever,
Maybe it's more of a feeling.
A feeling I can't shake.

What if she's the wrong one?
And by the way, is there a right one?
Must get this thoughts out of my head before she comes.
They won't go away, and there she is.
I hug her, say Hi and then she touches my forehead.
And I can't remember anything else. I can't remember yesterday.
I just remember the touch.