Hymn To Our Warmth

I do not mean to compliment you Only on your physical appearance. There are so many other ways That I could specify how great you are. A snow flake dances in the wind, Pure, innocent, magnificent and small. It flutters there or here beside me Acting as a muse for my pen Or a distraction from a world of frustrations. For no reason but their own My crystallized companion turns to face me, Landing upon my lips to melt. Or it should choose to take to folly, Dancing again past my eyes. Not only do I see it there, but feel it tambien. Where hopes are dreams and spirits jolly, I would have the moment’s consideration again, If only for a moment to reside there or here Where the snow flake warmed my heart. The pleasures I feel are not to be felt With fingers or lips or the flesh of this body. These pleasures flow Far deeper than the bloodlines go. These pleasures excite Far stronger than our joint hands might alone. Alone this body is only flesh. Without the passion that flows between us There are only empty hands: Hands that hold hands, But do not feel their warmth.