Touched

TOUCHED Leaf-fall and countless specimens litter the grass. Over my shoulder in her journey earthward To become part of the pile on the sward One leaf fell and touched me in her pass. Elegantly shapely and surprisingly light, I felt she consciously chose me from the crowd. On my shoulder she made a whisper loud In her soft and noiseless flight, As if she had decided, “It’s late in my lifetime But not too late to reach out anew And touch someone. . . . . . .you.” Then I felt the need to hold her beauty sublime. And I looked closely at her on the sedge, Picked her up, marveled at her colours radiant, Smoothed her delicate fabric pliant, Ran my fingers over her gently curving edge. Of all those anonymous specimen leaves, She will remember the touch of warm fingers. Like someone in a crowd of strangers Who comes momentarily into your life, then leaves. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Entered in Debbie Guzzi's Contest Touched