Seeking Touch.... Poem by Eric Cockrell
Seeking Touch....
hands seem to grow
smaller with age.
the maps neath the eyes
go from destiny to love.
love that had no horse,
but worked a mule.
and kingdoms only thus,
manure, and sweat.
your body perfume,
rust of a moth's wings...
hymnals made of dust,
simple words, bent nails.
love's sap dried
on your thighs and lips.
no names, no images,
just small hands seeking touch!
Wow, I'm glad I didn't miss this. Those images..did you sell your soul for those, or just a few decades? lol
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 9:35:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
No names no images just small hands seeking touch! ! Deeply moving, thank you for share.