Touchstone Tuesday: Poem XI


I run my fingers through your hair,

thinking that

you press

further through me

with every stroke.

I think

I am playing with your hair,

but it is me,


who is being played with.

Author: faithhealthandmusings

When life offers us so rich a bounty of inspiration, how can we help but to reflect in writing all that climbs into our hearts and takes up residence there?

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