Tremble

Within touch,
there's a space
between yes, and don't;
a pause,
and that holds for quite a while.

Her eyes seem deeper,
thoughts glance at her hand.
It seems smaller,
and sweeter,
and. . . like it needs held.

And he swallows hard,
the line is tripped
between,
they both know it
and know that it's
what they both think.

There a certain heart flutters
(its petals swirl
down,
down,
down, fragile; undone).
Her hair seems finer,
her laugh brightened some.


She knows that he sees.
He has a deep glance,
and nice eyes
that hold volumes
she'd like to read.

Within space,
there's a trembling
movement they've felt;
like threads in the breeze,
the silk in a web.

The silken fingers
link them with ease,
back and forth, back and forth,
as his thoughts
brush her cheek.


February 14, 2009