When Our Fingers Brush

When our fingers brush
before the full entwining of hands,
in that lightest touch,
I feel the warm sand


after drifting since birth
in the ocean of life,
sometimes afloat beneath the moon,
mostly pulled by riptide.


When my flesh feels yours,
every lighthouse at once finds me;
the beacons of light bring home the one
destined to love you eternally.


Your hand holding mine anchors me in safety,
your protective arms, my peaceful harbor.
With the waves no longer battering me,
I finally blossom in the sun as a flower.


Perhaps I no longer want to be a mermaid,
for when you lay me down in this warm, silky sand,
I can see every dream in the soft blue-steel of your eyes,
and I long to stay with you the rest of our years in any land.


When your lips reach down to take my breath away,
I sink deep in the comfort of a soulful love so divine,
your mouth meshed with mine delivers the panacea
that restores my heart and happiness to full life.


The sound of the tide soothes me, so benevolent now,
apologizing for all the times evil Rip dragged me down.
An offering the sea seems to deliver to me onto this shore is you.
Your gaze as you softly brush my cheek speaks oceans of truth.

I love you, too.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

10 thoughts on “When Our Fingers Brush

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