The ethereal hand 2002-03-15

Silently, I brush your face;
caress that line along your cheek
that always made me shudder.

Invisibly, your mind I trace,
so slowly, through that path oblique
bypassing the senseless clutter.

But just as I begin to feel
and reach out for your secret sun
you turn around and flinch away
and cryptic words you mutter.

For I still stand upon my heels
three feet away, ne'er closer come;
while other selves keep worlds at bay
my eyelids never flutter.