Intimate Touch – NaPoWriMo – 27

It’s quiet this early morning in the southern Canadian prairies. My grandsons are sleeping but will soon be up in order to get ready to head to the golf course for our first game of a new golf season. Since I am teen-sitting solo, I find myself somewhat in a strange place. Just about everything I do is always in the company of my life companion. We talk on the phone, send messages back and forth, but the physical absence makes a significant difference. The simple act of seeing, touching, smelling, yes and even tasting another person can never be replaced in virtual reality in my mind.

There, enough of that, it’s time to write a poem.

The Language of Touch

Your skin shows the passage of years
yet still invites my touch as if
time has stood still over the decades
of a life shared together

Though I have travelled over every
hill and valley and plain of your body
there is always a constant surprise
and fascination as though I am
journeying through an exotic foreign land
a journey that you share with me

As we sit side by side,
reading our separate books
or watching some story
on the screen in front of us
our hands find each other
and breathing relaxes
and we relax into each other

As we lay in bed, back to back
reaching for night to bring dreams
a foot moves to touch the other’s foot
telling us that even in sleep
we are there together

When storm clouds come between us
it is touch that ensures
that we don’t get lost in the storms
in the dark words that lash
our hearts like some hurricane
toppling houses in the wind
it is touch that pulls us both
back into the familiar safety
of us, together.

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