Things Poem by Amit Sharma

The things we touch may not percieve,
Just how they, being touched, do sleep.
And we are drawn to push and shove.
When all we wanted was a little love.
Gentle as the wind they leave. And we are left untouched.
So let things be. Let things be things.
Wait to see what the new dawn brings.
Perhaps the time will stir the seas
As things, like people, come to their knees
And realize with heavy eyes
That your touch is what they prized.
All along.