The Magic Touch
That tiny mouse's bullfighter cape,
I took it from you because I couldn't bear not to.
I had to have it.
You challenged the world with it,
and it shown in the sun as brightly as you burned.
It grew cold when I touched it,
Like a star without light or heat,
a ghost sail with no wind,
hanging limp in memory.
Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2016