The Touch Poem by John Ackerman

The Touch

whispers...
in the corridor alone
pillars of though brace my gait
the thought of illumination permeates my very being
how you had fought so hard and fierce
the touch awakes mt senses
in columns of darkened ambers
there is silence in the room
coffee
we talked about better days gone by
on how things used to be
in the midnight hour you were there
without a care
to delve into the inner plight of the soul
let behind an Autumn embrace of thought


hands, face & feet
a challenge to be free is a quest of time
sublime
romantic interlude as we pass in the hall
lips flutter through the intense fashion
we each must create are own reality
the door opens and I'm no more