That part
You
are a stranger to my inner being,
and yet, last night,
as I sat by your side not touching
I was touched.
There is a part of me that no one knows
that part that sees the faerie flowers
for one crystal moment saw the beauty
in the stand of hazel hairs
as they marched along the contours of your arm.
Who
sees beauty in an arm?
That part of me that no one knows.
I wanted to reach out, to capture
that moment and never let it go.
You can not cage the wild bird's song
it dies.
The beauty of your arm
would die, too.
For what is beauty
but the luster of life?