The Touch

He touched me and so I know
what the touch did mean.
The tenderness and intimacy
of an extroardinary scene
became the focal point for me.
It is fixated in my brain.
Oh that it never goes away,
I ask, please let it remain.

The touch was like a burning flame
that still is lit in me.
I dare anyone to douse it.
I will never let that be.
It will only go out when I am done
and no longer here.
I still can feel it burning
whenever the stars appear.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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