Simple Warmth

SIMPLE WARMTH

The simple warmth that gladly stayed,

So rare it must not be swayed.

Can you feel it in your face?

Can you feel it in your hands?

So sweet is the touch of your face,

The one I felt with my eyes.

The strange infection so strong

It can bring bones to life.

But we glanced and chased the cucumber,

So concerned with skin till it’s

Too loud for the heart.

A swing of the head, the edge of the eye,

The shutter that shot the sweet pie.

The simple warmth is good to see but no more

Is it than a sleeping pill.

Too loud is the cry of my heart to taste

What lies deeper than the simple,

clouding and deceptive warmth.

by The Feather Pencil Chronicles