Sitting here with you,
my fingers trace your face,
gently touch the stubble,
soft on your chin.
You close your eyes, and
trust my hand to be careful, but
mostly you trust my heart.
Your eyelashes flutter, ever so slightly.
Then, eyes still closed, you lean into me.
I hold my hand, inches away from your forehead,
and you grin,
feeling my essence without touch:
somehow, knowing I’d edged closer to you,
without vision.
I skim your bare shoulder with my cheek,
your body relaxes, safe.
I close my eyes, not touching you,
nor you, me.
Still I feel you here.
We suddenly giggle in concert,
surprising us both.
Then intimate, comfortable quiet,
no need to speak a word.
Your hand touches mine tenderly,
and somehow, I knew it would.
I feel you, am aware of your presence,
your essence
around me, in me, through me.
That space between us floats our Beings together.
We are connected,
beyond the physical,
and into the mystical time,
where our souls live.
©Janet Mitchell, October, 2011
