Your palm rests only upon my cheek
As salve upon my heart runs deep.
Your fingers run just through my hair,
Yet yearnings arise to keep them there.
Your shoulder leaning against my head
To offer comfort, fuels flames instead.
Without embrace, you hold me tight;
The love I feel I hope is right.
Three kisses placed upon my brow
Assure me that I’m needed now.
Without a word, you say so much;
My mind’s at peace, must have your touch.
Your gentle pat as you take leave,
Lets me know you’re a friend in deed.
Friend: A single soul dwelling within two separate bodies. (Aristotle) An excellent composition my friend!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the sweetness of your words here and the image it gives the reader. Very nice.