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
Lawra, this is Natalia,
ReplyDeleteJust to let you know that I am reading your blog regularly and I nominated you for the Kreative Blogger Award:
http://diaryofanewamerican.blogspot.com/2009/03/kreative-blogger-award.html