A Touch Of Heaven Poem by Peter S. Quinn

A touch of heaven,
Not though close and near;
Such a demonstration,
In darkish atmosphere.
Winter moon is high,
Cold is harnessing too;
I need love to revivify,
In this fancy curlicue.

Words are only words,
Full of moods to find out;
What will be afterwards,
Is not much talked about.
But it's worth checking,
Perhaps it may be too late;
For the winter is decking,
What autumn did abdicate.

A touch of inner mood,
Like tender bluish desire;
Only the rightful attitude,
Love alone may acquire.
But words are only made,
To bring it more close;
What in a heart's unplayed,
Before it again all goes.