Somehow, touching, we create another soul,

Sometimes my hands curl up,
and other times, they open.
Then I feel the air;
My fingers relax.
I touch your hand;
uncurl it and press it to mine.
Palm on palm, it’s no secret
that palms connect to hearts.
In your face, I see a hint of melancholy,
I feel it in my soul..
as if there was a secret connection..
thought how I don’t know.
Somehow, touching, we create another soul,
Neither you nor I, but we……
Touching, need to be physical..
We know how a story can affect us that way.
What a gift to know we have touched someone…
In the heart.’s. most tender space.The place of love.
Both true and false, my palm is lonely.
Then I feel the caress of summer air.
To touch is to be touched
as one soul opens to another…
Vulnerable, human, loving,
Painful and illusory,like those dreams of childhood.
Now I go, first gripping, then loosening our hands.
Goodbye, we say. Goodbye