“Aurora”

A poem by Daniela Caride

 

Your soft little hand grabs mine

We just met

You aren’t shy

to touch

to be

 

What happened to me?

What happened to all of us who don’t?

We don’t

all of the time

 

While we both focus our eyes

on something else

your soft little hand

holds my calloused palm

 

Old fingers don’t bend

But such honest softness

restores weathered flesh

with its breezy balm

 

I return your touch

with a little squeeze

And then let it go

when you turn

 

But I know

something within churns

once more

with ease

 

♦