Oh, There Is


Oh, there is this touch that is so ingrained.
Every line a familiar path,
woodsy crevices,
lush coolness deepened by time.
I reach toward you from a natural habit.
You, my refuge.
The breath of your spirit forms a canopy over my heart.
The dappled sound of rain,
the whirling of wind,
the silence of snow.
Reflections of our seasons are the soft moss that I hold to my cheek.
Its scent of your endlessness soothes,
is a solace to my spirit.
And your eyes,
so moist with time,
is a balm to my soul.
My hands will remember you,
always through my tears.

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