Matthew James Wilson
The Touch - Poem by Matthew James Wilson
We stand in the green rain field.
People have been -
Smiles and whispers remain.
I have forgotten
To bring with me
Or garment of similar function.
Formality flees, fleetingly.
As you, with your eyes that smile,
Put your arms around me,
And warm me in ways
I cannot explain.
My own arm around your waist.
A grateful squeeze
And I'm warm
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