touching you again
would be like
making love in a church
on a weekday.
sunlight sifting through
the stained glass windows
throwing colored shadows
on the empty pews,
the smell of burnt candlewax,
closed hymnals.
and stone silence.
a cold brass offering plate
waiting for your heart!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem Eric. Imagery filled and thoughtful poem