London Poem: Day 283

27 May

Such delicate fingers,
Trailing the remote contours
Of my body;
Lingering, longing, and softer,
So the heart knows nothing more
Than the sensory experience
To detail how it feels.
Away with thought, and
Farewell to analysis;
To feel, that’s what
Anyone ever wants.
This is life, and the
World at present,
Living in the gentle palm
Of your hand.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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