A
timid touch,
a
thousand thoughts.
No words; words are hardly possible.
A mere finger-brush, really;
feather-light
and infinitely fleeting.
He thinks his thoughts, she hers,
as the sun sets.
As the sun rises,
they think theirs.
A warm, firm clasp, truly;
soft and strong
and infinitely beautiful.
A tender touch,
ten thousand thoughts.
No words; words are hardly needed.
hand in hand they rise,
together turn to face the sun.
and hand in hand begin to walk
together down the road.