Dedicated to Margaret Menamin who passed away June 3, 2009
Where touch ends, its music plays on
like the light on a surface of water that bends
at first glance - then appears to be gone
where touch ends.
I have friends, though I'm often alone.
They’re like sail boats that sift on a lake of soft winds.
Touch reaches toward words whispered clear to the bone
that my hands may not grasp, though a yearning descends.
And loneliness – sometimes it sends
my needy heart searching for sun
where touch ends.
Anne Bryant-Hamon (Revised Feb – 2010)
