A Touch Is Enough

Slipping fingers
a palette touch.
To bring me life
a hand’s enough.

Touched heart I
put into dreams
of what I felt to
not forget peace.

Laced fingertips
in with my own
I remember its
sensation sewn.

Come with me,
my heart carry.
As we grow old
in body weary.

Slip do colors I
project in tones
where a picture
I have is home.

I beg to leave it,
my spite behind.
It flies from me,
warmth I find.

What color shall
we bathe in soft?
To quinch anger,
for to send aloft.

Spoil me shall I
request it again?
A hand to touch,
yours my friend.

Published by Jared Winchester

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