Robert A. Clay
A slight breeze is created as you pass,
the question is if you'll touch.
Your hand glides slowly along my shoulders,
I feel the passion I've missed so much.
To inspire emotions out of nothing,
to know the withdrawn feelings you release.
To allow needless walls to tumble,
our synergy gives me comforting peace.
You can sing me to sleep with your whispered voice,
after I have combed your hair with my fingers.
The scent of "Wings", the glow of a candle,
creates the image that I allow to linger.
Minutes are seconds, and hours are minutes,
and in the morning a sweet good-bye kiss.
Then I search carefully for your hair on my shirt,
my souvenir for the days you'll be missed.
From Robert's book titled My Heart's