Tentative,
Like a blind person seeking permission
To feel you.
Not to feel your skin, for I already know its softness.
Not to feel your heart, I already know its rhythm.
But I’m asking may I feel an emotional connection
That overrides this bodily deception.
I’ll lay a rose on your pillow,
Stripped of all its thorns
And a sprig from that old willow
That overhangs the porch.
And while your senses remember needing
I hope you realise the deeper meaning
Of the search and what we found.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem