When hands briefly touch, unexpected, held that bit longer…….
A hand held
Was it just instinct or a conscious act,
fate’s crossroads or a confluence exact.
It matters not, for do we reasons seek ?
to understand the flower’s mystique,
or do we revel in all it’s colours bright
and feast on a beauty that lures the sight.
With fleeting touch, my heart was caught,
this melding of soft skin and passion fought,
the clock stop moment of a hand gripped
as if nectar from Cupid’s cup I’d sipped.
And then it was gone, our hands slid away
there were no words we needed to say.