Like a fresh breath of wind through a lock of curls
Like the softest of a caress over a wound slowly healing
Like the touch on the neck of a cold string of priceless pearls
It felt when on your shoulder I lay reflecting.
Beyond Rumi’s ideas of right and wrong
A moment materialized when we least expected
When under the invisible moon we sat along
And the vastness within on the night sky we projected.
How much of intensity a little touch accommodates
How much of catharsis could you make in one moment
As though all that defence around the heart long since awaits
That one moment of all cynical disarmament.
Of the many little things that form the big picture
This is one moment I know I’ll flag for life
For that ecstasy of subtly grabbing your finger
Was an unexplained sense of adrenaline overdrive.
Me, your pretty fingers in mine and the night sky
The unaccepted social norm that deems it all wrong
They don’t realise that atop their boundaries, the higher we fly
And hidden from their norms, to each other we belong.
ficklesorts 
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