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You ask, what is a touch?
I say, under your touch
I seem to take a more definite shape
My skin shivers smoothly
From a single gliding gesture
That leaves a trail of memories
Upon my sentient arm.
You ask, what is a kiss?
Well, it’s only when we kiss
That I really know I have lips
And that somehow, mysteriously,
They transmit little bursts of happiness
To every part of my body
So that even my toes
Wiggle with glee when we kiss.
You ask, how much can words count?
Since I talk so much, I’m obliged to admit
That it would be quite embarassing
To count words. But the truth, my love,
Is that words are priceless
For in sharing with you the minutia of my days
Each event glows with significance
So that without you the words
“Touch,” “kiss”and “speak”
Would feel almost meaningles.
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